


Someday

by kaijoskopycat



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Needles, Rescue Missions, Science, Secrets, Side Effects, experiment au, mentions past oikuro, scientists - Freeform, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-08-14 20:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8027305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaijoskopycat/pseuds/kaijoskopycat
Summary: A handful of people have been locked away in a facility where they're administered serums to help scientists build the ultimate vaccine. They're trying to cure the world of all disease, Kuroo tells everyone, because that is what he has been told and that is what he wants to believe. But when the experiments start to take their toll, both physically and mentally, Kuroo has to decide if he believes in this cause more than he believes in helping create a better life for those he truly cares about.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work exists because of [drawverylittle](http://http://drawverylittle.tumblr.com). It was her help plotting that made this world come to life. Pls take a moment to look at her [gorgeous](http://drawverylittle.tumblr.com/post/146510325161/outfit-designs-for-someday-a-lab-experiment-au) [artwork](http://drawverylittle.tumblr.com/post/147189622716/outfit-designs-for-someday-a-lab-experiment-au) included with this fic. Hopefully it helps you picture their environment even more.

The place feels like a hospital. As he's guided down the halls, Kenma notes the color of every room in his mind. Another white room. He stares ahead. His eyes flicker between the stark, white walls until another room comes up on the right. Another white room. The place smells sterile, the sharp smell of antiseptic and cleaning supplies. Another white room. People here wear lab coats. Their shoes are white. Their coats are white. Their gloves are white. And there's another white room. 

He can't remember how he ended up here. The smell of smoke and the heat of fire comes to mind, but he can't think past the pain in his heart when he tries to remember anything before the blank white slate laid out before him. The men that guide him say nothing to him. They don't ask how he's doing. They don't ask about the stains on his clothes, the ash on his fingers, the way his eyes still water from a heat that's no longer there. 

Another lab coat passes them and it's the first time someone meets his eye. The lab coat stops and catches the arm of one of the men carting Kenma through the halls.

"Room 12." 

The man pushes Kenma forward after responding with a nod. Kenma scowls at the rough encouragement to continue moving and fights back the urge to ask what happens in "Room 12". He doesn't like the fact that a scientist--or what Kenma assumes is a scientist--is the one to determine his location in this hospital that's not a hospital. 

He starts to notice the numbers on the doors to the white rooms now, the dark plaques with their bold, white letters. Room 8 passes by so quickly he almost doesn't notice the way the plaque hangs unceremoniously off the door, a vertical line instead of nearly horizontal like the rest. He doesn't have time to think of that as an omen because they're passing Room 9 and it's the first closed door they've come across. His body tenses as his mind supplies a number of gruesome images of what could lay behind the closed doors. 

Distracted by his less than pleasant musings, he completely misses the last two doors before he's ushered into the one designated for him. White again, he notes with a frown as his eyes sweep across the room. There's a table in the left hand corner, the kind you sit on at the doctor's office where they tap your knee to test your reflexes. Kenma highly doubts he's here to have his reflexes tested. There's a computer at the other end of the room and paperwork laid out across the table beside it. Behind the table is a cart covered with vials and other materials Kenma can't begin to name. He never took much interest in the medical field, but he's almost certain he can see needles on the table and he knows what they're for. 

He's never been a big fan of vaccinations. 

Before he has the chance to move, a shadow looms over his shoulder and a deep, but unusually friendly voice reaches his ears. 

"You can have a seat." 

Kenma catches a hand gesture toward the table out of the corner of his eye and finally turns his head to see the man speaking to him. He has dark brown hair, cropped close to his head and eyes such a deep brown that they're almost black. He doesn't look scary at all, like Kenma had been imagining. He's shorter, stockier that most, but there's a power behind him that Kenma can feel when he places a hand against the small of his back to usher him forward. 

"I promise it's clean," the man says with a smile and, despite the growing fear that makes his stomach quake, Kenma isn't afraid of this man. He can see the sincerity in those eyes and wonders what he could possibly be doing in a place like this. 

“Kozume Kenma." 

Kenma jumps at the mention of his name and slowly makes his way to the table. 

"You can call me Sawamura-san." Sawamura smiles again and taps his fingers against a clipboard he must have picked up off the table. 

Kenma doesn't like that his information was sitting out in the open like that, so readily available for anyone who passed by. 

"I'm here to administer the serum," Sawamura continues, his eyes flicker across the page in front of him. "I see you have no allergies to any medications and the only other allergy indicated is--" 

"Peanuts," Kenma interrupts softly. 

Sawamura finally glances up at him and smiles again. Always smiling, Kenma notes. Now he's uneasy. 

"Peanuts," Sawamura repeats for confirmation. Kenma watches as he crosses the small distance to the cart. His fingers brushes back and forth over the vials until he pulls one from the batch. "The only side effect we know of from this particular serum is the potential for tremors. They should be mild, if they show face at all and--" 

"What am I here for?" Kenma stops him as soon as he sees the needle appear. 

Sawamura pauses in his set up of the vaccine and slowly lowers the readied shot onto the cart. "They didn't..." He rubs his hands together, drawing Kenma's attention to the latex gloves he hadn't seen before. "You signed paperwork agreeing to take part in our testing. I was told you were made aware of the situation." Sawamura hesitates, his brow furrow as his eyes dart between the vaccine and the door. "I can get someone to explain it all to you again. I don't want you to be here against your will or anything, but you... you do know your family is--" 

Kenma shakes his head. His hands clench around the edge of the table. 

Sawamura's eyes soften. "Kozume-san, I'm sorry. I was told you had no where else to--" 

"It's fine," Kenma relents with a sigh. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew what had happened. He knew whatever family he had left was no longer there for him to go back to and Sawamura was right. He had no where else to go. He couldn't remember signing papers. He couldn't remember anyone explaining to him what he was getting himself into. But that didn't mean it wasn't true. 

Kenma was always good at suppressing memories too unpleasant for him to bear. 

"Kozume-san?" 

"Just Kenma," Kenma replies softly, loosening his grip on the table. "Just Kenma..." He sees the question in Sawamura's eyes and adds, "Go ahead." 

Sawamura's shoulders sag with relief and he reaches for the vaccine once more. "Okay, just Kenma." He smiles and swipes an antiseptic wipe across the bend of Kenma's arm. "You'll feel a pinch." 

_Always just a pinch_ , Kenma reminds himself. He grits his teeth as the needle slips into his skin. He can feel the serum pushing its way into his veins. It's unpleasant, but bearable, and he hardly feels when Sawamura removes the needle and presses a folded piece of gauze against Kenma's arm. 

"Wasn't so bad, was it?" Sawamura asks as he turns to toss the used needle into a designated bin. "Now the side effects should take effect in a moment and if they're overwhelming, don't hesitate to let me know. We can--" 

Kenma pitches forward as pain rockets down his spine. Sawamura's impressive reflexes saved his face from making nice with the floor. A tremor, much more powerful than he expected, slams through his body. He has no control over his limbs as they quake in Sawamura's grasp. He can't find the words to speak out loud, to tell Sawamura that this is indeed overwhelming, but judging by the look on his face, he probably doesn't need to say a thing. 

"Shit..." Sawamura curses, pulling Kenma close to his body as shouts, "Suga! Suga, I need you in here!" 

A man passes the doorway, his blond hair haphazardly pulled back with a headband. An unlit cigarette hangs from his mouth. He stares inside for a moment, taking in the scene before his eyes widen and he darts down the hall. 

Kenma can hear his voice echoing the name Sawamura had been shouting before. 

"Suga! Suga we have a level 5 in room 12! Suga!" 

Kenma grits his teeth and hisses as pain lances down his spine once more. He doesn't remember signing papers for this, but he'll definitely remember regretting it in the morning.

* * *

 

"So Suga," Kuroo grins as he rolls up his sleeve. 

Sugawara sighs as he prepares the serum for vaccination. "Yes, Kuroo?" 

"How is Keiko doing? I remember you mentioned her first ballet recital last time." 

Kuroo held back a laugh at the way Sugawara's cheeks flushed. It was such an amusing contrast to the stark white of his lab coat. 

"It went... well." Sugawara lifts the needle to the light and taps a finger against the side to jostle the liquid. "As well as a ballet recital can go when it's performed by a bunch of four year olds." 

Kuroo chuckles and leans back against the table. "They say it's good to start 'em early." 

Sugawara rolls his eyes and grabs Kuroo's arm to swipe antiseptic wipe across his skin. He can't hide the smile that twitches at the corners of his lips and Kuroo sees it. "I'm not sure I should be taking your advice on children, Kuroo." 

Kuroo grins again, a wide, mischievous, cheshire grin. "I have no idea what you're talking about Sugawara-san. I'm a wonderful influence on children." 

"Somehow I doubt that," Sugawara mutters as he presses a thumb against Kuroo's skin to find the vein. He shifts the topic of conversation to medical as he readies the vaccine. "As far as we know, this serum has been known to cause tremors." He lifts his eyes to meet Kuroo's and adds, "I'm sure you won't have to worry, but I warn you just in case." 

Kuroo clutches his heart with the opposite hand and feigns tears. "You do care." 

Sugawara shakes his head and chuckles. He pushes the needle into his skin. Kuroo doesn't even flinch. He barely feels the sting anymore. 

“It never fails to surprise me how little you react to the needle," Sugawara comments as he presses a small square of gauze to Kuroo's arm after he pulls the needle out. 

"My whole life has been needles," Kuroo replies, the response coming out before he can think of what that may sound like to someone like Sugawara. "Shit..." He runs his fingers through his disheveled hair when Sugawara turns a reproachful frown his way. "I didn't mean it like... You know I'm not blaming you." 

Sugawara was the first Lab Coat to open up to him and Kuroo is more than well aware of the way he blames himself for the suffering that goes on. It's not fair of him to make comments that fertilize Sugawara's ever growing guilt. 

"I know," Sugawara turns away, tossing the used needle and slowly pulling the gloves off his hands. "I should probably learn to be less sensitive to errant comments." He laughs, but the sound is tight, fake. It makes Kuroo cringe. 

When Sugawara turns back to face him, all traces of the regretful smile that was likely on his face are gone. He's got a clipboard in hand and an expectant look on his face. 

Kuroo shrugs. "I got nothing for you." He holds out a hand to show that it is just as steady as it was before. 

"Of course," Sugawara sighs, jotting down another note to add to his ever growing file. "One of these days we'll get a reaction from you, Kuroo. I think that'll--" 

A crash from down the hall makes both of them jump. Sugawara's eyes flash upward and he takes a step toward the door. Kuroo leans forward, curious. 

Sugawara freezes when he hears a shout of his name from down the hall. He turns toward Kuroo, eyes wide, frightened. He's about to step into the hall when an assistant crashes into him. 

"Takeda-san," Sugawara grabs his shoulders to steady him. "What happened? I heard--" 

"Sugawara-san," Takeda gasps, clutching his chest with one hand and thrusting a folder toward Sugawara with the other. "Ukai-kun told me... to give this... to you." Each fragment of the sentence came between sharp gasps of breath. 

Sugawara opens the folder and briefly skims over the first page. Kuroo can almost hear the question ready on his tongue when Takeda continues. 

"Daichi..." 

Sugawara's eyes widen. His face pales. 

"Daichi needs you," Takeda tells him. "He said... Daichi said there's a level 5..." He gestures toward the door. "Room 12." 

The folder slips from Sugawara's grasp as he throws himself out the door. Kuroo can hear his heavy footfalls as he races down the hall to the room in question. He stares at Takeda, expecting answers he knows he won't get. Instead he gets a shake of the head, a confused, sad smile before Takeda says, "You may head back to your room, Kuroo." He takes a backward step toward the door. "I trust you don't need an escort?" 

"I know the way," Kuroo replies with a frown. 

Takeda nods once before backing out the doorway and disappearing down the hall. 

Kuroo stares at the empty doorway, confused and concerned. The expression on Sugawara's face was like nothing he had seen before. He had seemed genuinely terrified, though Kuroo couldn't be sure if he was worried about Daichi's safety or the health of the subject. 

He pulls his eyes away from the doorway, finding the folder laying on the floor. He slips off the table and slowly crosses the room. A corner of the paperwork peeks out of the edge of the folder. He can see the top of a picture, the dark roots of the subjects hair that bleed into a dyed blond. He can't see his face, but he does see a name. 

Kuroo crouches next to the folder and brushes his fingers across the name. "Kozume Kenma?" He picks up the folder and straightens the paperwork inside. As much as he wants to read it, he knows he wouldn't want someone casually skimming through his file. The most personal information can be hidden in the piles of paperwork inside. He knows the information these files contain is none of his business. 

He places the folder on the table he had been sitting on and turns to exit the room. "Kozume Kenma," he repeats as he turns into the hall. "Who are you?"

* * *

 

Kuroo taps his fingers against the tabletop, staring at the half eaten sandwich on his plate. After the incident in the Rooms, he had made a beeline for the mess hall, eager to share what he'd heard. A level five, he thinks. He had figured someone else might have more information, but Bokuto hasn't returned yet and neither has Oikawa. Kuroo starts to worry when his friends are absent far longer than he expects them to be. 

_But speak of the devil and he shall appear_ , Kuroo thinks as Oikawa slides into the seat across from him, a dazzling grin brightening up his face. 

"Took you long enough," Kuroo gripes, finally taking another bite of his sandwich. 

Oikawa glances at the food. "Doesn't look like you were too concerned since you starting eating on your own." 

Kuroo ignores the comment and stares at he door, expectant. 

"They locked him up," Oikawa answers the unspoken question, _where is Bokuto?_

Kuroo grimaces and runs his fingers through his hair. "Shit... That bad?" 

Oikawa reaches out to steal a chip off Kuroo's plate and Kuroo notices the way his hands tremble and knows. 

"Ah, right... Jittery side effects." 

Oikawa jerks his hand back before Kuroo can reach out to grab it. "Has Kou-chan bouncing off the walls." He chuckles, but the mirth never reaches his eyes. 

Kuroo sighs. He felt none of that when he was injected and he still doesn't understand why. "Is he alright?" 

Oikawa shrugs and snaps off a corner of the chip. "He will be." 

Before Oikawa can move again, Kuroo reaches out and touches the back of his hand. "Are you?" 

The action finally gets Oikawa to meet his eyes. "I will be." 

He hates hearing the defeat in Oikawa's voice. "You're stronger than what they can throw at you," he says softly. 

Oikawa rolls his eyes and pulls away. "Aren't we all?" 

Kuroo sighs. Sometimes he thinks it might be better to pretend the experiments aren't happening, to not talk about them. But that would be as easy as denying the existence of the sun. You can't ignore something that blindingly present in your life. 

"But you know, I heard the new guy has it way worse." Oikawa adds, stealing another chip. Kuroo never protests. He doesn't feel like Oikawa eats enough. "I heard he'll probably be strapped down all day. The lastest serum has him practically vibrating." 

_New guy?_ Kuroo's brow furrows. He's usually privy to information about anyone new to the facility but the addition of new subjects happens so infrequently that perhaps he stopped paying attention. 

"The new guy?" 

Oikawa glances up from his hands that he's now clasped in front of him on the table to minimize the evidence of their shaking. "Kozume-San?" He cocks his head to the side. "How do you not know about him?" Oikawa pauses and purses his lips in thought. "Well, I guess he is a bit a recluse from what I understand. Shrimpy seems to have taken a liking to him even though he's a polar opposite." 

"Kozume..." Kuroo repeats. Then it hits him. The name he read on the paperwork dropped in the exam room had been Kozume. He'll have to seek him out later. His curiosity will get the better of him. Curiosity killed the cat, he thinks, but cats always were known to have nine lives. 

"Speaking of the new guy," Kuroo says as he half heartedly bats Oikawa's hand away from his plate. "Get your own." 

Oikawa pouts. "But the line is so far away and my legs are still shaking and yours are steady, Tetsu-chan. You wouldn't make me get up and risk me falling, would you?" 

Kuroo bares his teeth. "Always playing dirty." He shoves his chair back. "But you better let me finish when I get back. I've got juicy gossip for you." 

Oikawa perks up. "Oh, I do love a good rumor." 

Kuroo shakes his head with a half smile. "Not a rumor. It happened. Now let me get your food, you damn guilt-tripper." 

"I'll get it, Kuroo. Don't let this pompous ass guilt trip you." 

Oikawa nearly jumps out of his seat when a voice comes from behind him. His eyes widen, begging Kuroo not to move just yet. Kuroo watches as he swallows a lump in his throat and forces his lips into a wide smile before turning around. 

"Iwa-chan! You're gonna terrify everyone if you come out of nowhere like a wraith." 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and reaches out to put a hand on Oikawa's shoulder, ignoring the way he flinches back. "Don't try to hide it from me." He crouches down next to Oikawa, his eyes flickering to his shaking hands. "They really got you good with this one, didn't they?" 

Oikawa cheeks take on a pinkish tint and Kuroo suppresses a faint grin. Only Iwaizumi can make Oikawa blush like that. 

"I'm fine, Iwa-chan." Oikawa tries for a confident smile. "I'll settle down in no time. No need to break your back for me." 

"But it's okay for Kuroo to break his back for you?" Kuroo doesn't miss the hurt in Iwaizumi's voice, despite his best attempts to conceal it. "Tch, idiot." Iwaizumi pulls back. "I'm still getting you food. Gotta get some myself so I'll be up there anyway." 

Oikawa deflates when he walks off, burying his head in his arms on the table. 

"You know, your face gets all wrinkly and gross when you force smiles like that," Kuroo says, hiding a grin behind his hand. 

"Shut up," Oikawa mutters into his arms before lifting his head and scowling. "Drop it and give me this juicy gossip." 

Kuroo shakes his head, but dismisses the topic. He pulls his seat back in, reaching across the table to grab Oikawa's arm and pull him closer. He didn't know how many people knew about the incident or who was allowed to know. Oikawa might've loved gossip, but he also knew when to keep his mouth shut. There was no one better to tell secrets to than Oikawa. 

"Have you heard of anyone here being a level 5?" 

Oikawa's eyes widen. "A level 5?" Like everyone else who takes part in the experiments, Oikawa reaches around his nape and touches the tattoo placed in the center of his neck. Kuroo has seen it before. Three straight bars, shaded in, dark marks on Oikawa's flawless, pale skin. "Kou-chan is a level 4. I haven't heard of anything higher. I can't even imagine--" 

"Kozume Kenma," Kuroo says, watching the realization cross Oikawa's features. "Practically vibrating, you said, right? It happened when I got nicked this morning. Suga ran out of the room the minute he heard the shouts from down the hall." 

"Refreshing-kun left you alone in the Room?" Oikawa bit his lower lip. "It was that bad?" 

Oikawa could be many things. He's often referred to as annoyingly persistent, annoying in general, self-centered, narcissistic, pompous, and any other synonym anyone could think of for those terms. But Kuroo knows he's also hard-working, loyal, and fiercely compassionate. He can see the pain flash across his features at the thought of just how much this Kozume-san may be suffering. 

Kuroo nods, his lips twitching into a somber smile. "It was that bad." He sighs, tugging open one of the buttons of his jumpsuit. "I didn't see it, but Takeda showed up, got the news from Ukai. If they're freaking out it must be serious." 

"I don't like the sound of it," Oikawa whispers. He laces his shaking fingers and slides them into his lap. "What if the serums are getting stronger?" He finally looks up at Kuroo, his eyes blown wide. 

"Hey.." Kuroo pushes himself out of his seat and moves around the table to place a reassuring hand on Oikawa's shoulder. "It's got nothing to do with that. This guy is... He's different. Not sure how I know that, but I do." He feels 

Oikawa's shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. He finally glances over his shoulder and offers a shadow of his usual bright smile. "You always have to find the right words to say, don't you, Tetsu-chan?" 

Kuroo grins and gives Oikawa's shoulder a squeeze. "You can't be the best at everything, Oikawa." He pulls back, gesturing toward the remaining chips on his plate. "They're up for grabs. I'm gonna head back. Tell Bo to stop by when he's done being a jumping bean, kay?" 

Oikawa waves him off with a faint smile, already reaching toward Kuroo's leftovers. Kuroo smiles as he walks away, taking comfort in the fact that Oikawa's hands were already shaking less than they had been before.

* * *

 

Kuroo drags his fingers along the wall as he heads toward his room. He watches his fingers, begging for a hint of a tremble, something to show that maybe he was suffering with the rest of them. But they remain straight and steady. He holds a hand out in front of him and pictures Oikawa's shaky fingers, thinks of how Bokuto might be suffering in confinement because he can't keep his body under control. 

He wonders why he's safe from all these unpleasant side effects. 

Then he remembers Bokuto isn't the only one fighting against the shudders that wrack his body. The new guy--Kozume Kenma--is struggling just as much, if not more, with his own violent side effect. Kozume Kenma, Kuroo thinks. With side effects as powerful as that, he can only imagine the tattoo that will decorate his neck. 

He palms his nape, brushing his fingers over the mark he can't feel, but knows is there. One bar. Level one. The new guy is his polar opposite. He doesn't know how far they'll go, but he vaguely remembers Takeda using the phrase "level five". 

Furrowing his brow in thought, he pauses in front of the room beside his, a room that has been empty up until now. A name plaque decorates the door, similar to his own, but newer, shinier. His is faded, worn down and Bokuto had turned the last two letters into a cat against Kuroo's wishes. 

His eyes widen as he's pulled from his thoughts. He lets his fingers trace the name that his been running through his head all day. 

_Kozume Kenma_. 

Images flash through his head; the top of the paper peeking out of the folder, Oikawa's face as he sounds out Kozume Kenma's name. Curiosity whispers at the back of his brain, making his fingers itch to push the door open. 

There's a crack between the door and the jamb and Kuroo peers in. He thinks he can see a pair of small feet dangling off the edge of the bed. There's a voice, a quiet one, telling him not to go inside. He thinks that might be rationality, but he's never listened to the rational part of his brain before. 

He presses a shoulder against the door and listens as it creaks open. The sound alerts the occupant to his presence and he gets his first glimpse of Kozume Kenma. He remembers the dark roots from the top of the picture he had seen hidden in the folder, but the blond drags down to his shoulders and hides half of his face from view. He knows Oikawa had mentioned that Kozume was a bit of a recluse and he can see that now in the way his small frame shrinks back against the wall at the head of his bed. 

He peers around that curtain of blond hair, large, cat like eyes narrowed in immediate distrust. But Kuroo ignores the look he's receiving because there's something magnetic about Kozume. There's something alluring about the flecks of gold Kuroo can see in his eyes when they catch the dim light from his bedside table. 

"Who are you?" Kozume asks, his voice weak, barely more than a whisper. 

"I'm--" Kuroo hesitates as he takes another step into the room. "Your neighbor." He settles on that answer. "Kuroo Tetsurou." 

"Kuroo..." Kozume cocks his head to the side, revealing another spark of color in his eyes. "My name is--" 

"Kozume-san," Kuroo finishes for him with a grin. "Believe me, everyone has already heard of you, kitten." The nickname startles even him, but he finds it's fitting. 

Kozume scrunches his nose and Kuroo's lips twitch as the sight of the way the skin between his brows wrinkles. "Just... Kenma. Call me Kenma." 

Kuroo takes another tentative step into the room, only a few feet from Kenma's bed. "Okay, Kenma." Another step. "I heard you had quite an... ordeal for your first serum injection." 

Kenma scowls. "What are they doing to us here?" 

"What?" Kuroo blinks at him. "Weren't you told? They give you paperwork to sign when you first come in. It tells you everything. They should've--" 

"I don't remember," Kenma replies softly. He stares mournfully at the floor and Kuroo has an overwhelming urge to reach out, to offer a comforting touch to his shoulder. 

With a sigh, Kuroo rubs at his nape, absently tracing his finger up and down the bar. "I can't say I fully understand," he admits with a shrug and sheepish half smile. "But I know they're trying to help a lot of people. We're making a difference here. They're trying to make a serum that'll pretty much make humanity immune to all disease." 

Kenma's eyes widen minutely, but he doesn't pull his gaze away from the floor. 

"The more they test these serums on us the more information they can gather to help build the perfect vaccine," Kuroo continues. He shifts from foot to foot, restless. Kenma's expression worries him, but he's also familiar with the dazed look of disbelief. Oikawa had it when he first entered. Even Bokuto took some time to come around. But everyone came around eventually. Everyone understood the reason for their confinement. 

"I know it can be hard," Kuroo admits. "Some of the side effects are painful, they can linger. But it's for a good cause." Kuroo drops his hands, extending them forward to appear welcoming. "If they can eliminate disease the world will be--" 

"They can't do that," Kenma interrupts, finally lifting his head to meet Kuroo's surprised gaze. "It's just..." He wrings his shaking hands in the blanket beneath him. "It's not right. Disease is... It's sad. It hurts. But it's a part of life." 

Kuroo lets the words sink in. He remembers Oikawa's argument, not against what they were doing here, but against being locked away, more because the world wouldn't have his presence. Bokuro laments, to this day, all the little niceties of life outside the facility. But not even Akaashi protests the ultimate goal of the experiments. 

_Disease is a part of life _. Kuroo can't deny that Kenma makes a valid point.__

__"A natural way to control over population?" Kuroo offers, kneeling in front of Kenma. "I can't say you're wrong." He grins, a crooked cheshire grin. "But humor me for a second, kitten."_ _

__"Kenma," Kenma corrects. He wavers, swaying on the edge of the bed and Kuroo lifts a hand as support. Kenma shakes his head and stares at him._ _

__Kuroo chuckles at his determination and continues. "Imagine all the families plagued by disease."_ _

__"All the individuals," Kenma counters._ _

__"No," Kuroo shakes his head. "All the families. Disease doesn't just hurt the person who has it. The family suffers, in pain just from seeing their loved ones suffer. It's a different kind of suffering, but... they still suffer." He cocks his head to the side. "Unless you're gonna say they don't."_ _

__Kenma purses his lips and doesn't comment._ _

__"Imagine all the families," Kuroo starts again. "All the suffering we could save them. There will always be crime, always war, always accidents that lead to death. You can't really fix those with a vaccine. But why not help fight what we can fight? Give people a chance to live instead of letting them sit there waiting out a death sentence they don't deserve?"_ _

__Silence hangs between them. Kuroo can see Kenma mulling over his words in the way his brow furrows, in the way he wrinkles his nose ever so slightly._ _

__Finally, Kenma sighs and looks up at Kuroo. "You're the type who always has to be right, aren't you?" He scowls and tries to push himself off the edge of the bed. Kuroo can see the way his arms shake, struggling to lift his weight. Once he's on his feet, he's unsteady and Kuroo dives forward right when Kenma shoots an arm out to brace his fall back against the mattress._ _

__Kuroo grabs Kenma's hand and instantly feels an electric shock. But instead of pulling away, he squeezes tighter, slowly lowering Kenma onto the bed again._ _

__Their hands remain linked until Kenma pulls away, rubbing his palm against his leg. "You..." He glances up, their faces inches apart. Now Kuroo can see every color in his eyes, the golden flecks, the light brown shadows, the way they circle into a dark, black iris that holds so many secrets that Kuroo suddenly feels compelled to learn. "You shocked me."_ _

__Kuroo shakes his head and presses his hand against the edge of the bed. "Actually," he cocks his head to the side, watching Kenma watch him. "I think you're the one who shocked me."_ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma finds that he's not alone in this strange, unwelcome change in his life. The people he meets will change him, just as Kuroo has. But whether they'll change him for the better is determined by how he perceives everything that happens. Kuroo hopes Kenma will learn to see this place in the positive light that he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you following this, I apologize for the delay. Sometimes writer's block eats away my inspiration for projects, but they always remain in the vault of my brain. Hope you enjoy.

Kenma doesn’t know what to think when he awakens. The tremor is gone. He can lift his arm without feeling that unsteady shiver that plagued him the night before. But that doesn’t assuage his fears or erase the questions that still scurry through his mind.

Last night, after speaking with Kuroo, Kenma began to second guess his worry. He doesn’t know if it’s Kuroo himself that makes him feel like he can trust what is happening here, or the way he delivered his little speech, but Kenma can’t help but wonder if maybe he’s right. Maybe they are doing something good here. Maybe he’s making a difference.

Great leaders, innovators, inventors, everyone who has made a difference, didn’t they all have to suffer through some hardships to reach their goals?

Kenma frowns to himself as he rolls out of bed. He thinks back to the friendly smile on Sawamura’s face, to the concern when he believed that Kenma didn’t know what was going to happen to him. Hadn’t he offered to hold off until Kenma had the proper knowledge of what he had gotten himself into? Sawamura, Kenma concludes, is a good person and he clearly believes in this cause.

It doesn’t take him long to get ready. Everyone is assigned a color based on, Kenma assumes, their ranking. The few jumpsuits hanging in his barren closet are all red, five bars are sewn onto the left breast pocket. As he buttons the jumpsuit up to his neck, he reaches around his nape and rubs his fingers over the still tender tattoo of the bars that match the indicator on his jumpsuit.

If he remembers correctly, Kuroo also wears red. But only one bar adorns his jumpsuit. Kenma doesn’t understand why they’re grouped under the same color.

Kuroo had looked so comfortable in the jumpsuit, like he’s been wearing it his entire life. Kenma finds it to be too loose, and a bit itchy. The collar tickles his neck, and he fidgets in the fabric as he shoulders open the door.

“Give it a few days and you’ll barely feel the collar.”

Kenma jumps, instinctively shrinking back into his room as he eyes the man standing outside. He’s taller than Kenma, though it’s not difficult to be. His dark hair waves at the ends, curling away from his head in a way that almost appears unruly, but the way he holds himself proves to Kenma that it’s anything but that. His eyes hold a world of knowledge, and the gentle way they crinkle at the edges makes the tension slip from Kenma’s shoulders and coaxes him out of his room.

“Forgive my intrusion,” the man says, dipping his head in his apology. “I should have known you would sleep late considering the ordeal you likely went through last night. The first day is always taxing.”

Kenma nods slowly, his eyes scrolling across the jumpsuit, staring intently at the four white bars outlined in yellow on the man’s chest.

“Ah, introductions.”

Kenma blinks at the outstretched hand before him.

“My name is Akaashi Keiji,” He glances down at his own chest, following Kenma’s line of sight. “As you can tell, I am a level four. We aren’t so different, you and I.”

With a modicum of hesitation, Kenma finally reaches out and grasps Akaashi’s hand. “Kozume Kenma. Level five.” He slowly pulls his hand back and adds, “Just call me Kenma.”

Akaashi chuckles softly. “Kuroo-san did mention you seem to prefer "just Kenma”.“ He gestures toward the end of the hall with a nod of his head. "Would you like to walk with me, Kenma-san?”

Kenma nods, grateful for someone as soft spoken as he is. Akaashi doesn’t appear shy, but he easily fills the silence without asking Kenma to chime in much.

“We’re all very well aware that you met Kuroo-san last night.” A small smile twitches at the corners of Akaashi’s lips. “He is quite outspoken and doesn’t really know how to stop talking when he finds something he likes.” The unspoken “or someone” doesn’t go unnoticed.

Kenma feels the color rise to his cheeks as he turns his face away. “He came into my room,” he mutters, memorizing the cracks that dance down the wall.

“I’m assuming it wasn’t a quick hello,” Akaashi muses aloud. “He has a tendency to preach about the good deed this place is trying to do for the world to any new person who will listen.”

Wrapping his arms around himself, Kenma sighs and nods. The response is clearly more than enough for Akaashi who chuckles again and uses a slender, delicate hand to wave off Kenma’s obvious annoyance.

“We’ve all been lectured by him on that matter.” Akaashi’s smile doesn’t waver and when Kenma peers at him through his curtain of hair he sees the corners of his eyes crinkle with a fondness that makes his heart skip a beat. At least there’s no lack of warmth between the other participants in this study.

“Is he…” Kenma searches for the right words, shrinking under Akaashi’s curious gaze. “Does he really believe that this is all for a greater cause? I just can’t…” He shakes his head and sighs. The words elude him, just as they had the night before. Kuroo’s argument, though flawed in a sense, was also compelling. He wants to believe it. Especially after he way he reacted to the first serum. He doesn’t have to know all the details to know that won’t be his only injection. Believing his pain is for a good cause might make it more manageable.

“It’s not easy to accept,” Akaashi concedes with a sad smile. “Feels a bit like we’re prisoners, doesn’t it?”

Kenma doesn’t hesitate to nod.

“I can’t promise you that feeling will go away.” Kenma stares at the ground as Akaashi continues, “But I can promise you that you are not alone in this.” He grabs the edge of his right sleeve and rolls it up. Faint pockmarks leave a trail up the edge of his forearm. “This is from a reaction I had nearly a year ago.”

Kenma’s eyes widen and he pulls his arms against his chest.

“It looks quite bad, doesn’t it?” Akaashi runs his fingers over the marks. “It hurt. I will not sugarcoat it and tell you this was easy to endure. It wasn’t. But the difference here is that I had someone to sit by my side and let me squeeze their hand until it almost broke from the pressure, someone who pressed a cool towel to my head and spoke to me about anything and everything to take my mind off the pain.”

The first voice that comes to mind is the same drawl that spoke so passionately about the goal of this facility the night before. Kenma doesn’t understand why Kuroo’s face and his voice are something he considers soothing, but he thinks it might not be so hard to endure these reactions if he knows someone cares, if he knows someone may want to sit by his side and tell him it’s okay. He’s not one to desire the presence of others, but the shock that Kuroo left upon his skin still lingers and he can’t seem to shake it. Maybe Kuroo has the same effect on Akaashi.

“It’s not so bad here,” Akaashi finishes, guiding Kenma around a corner that leads to more dormitories.

“Do you believe what Kuroo says?” Kenma asks, curious. He still hears Kuroo’s determined explanation rolling through his mind.

“Ah, disease immunity?”

Kenma nods, slowing his gait to match Akaashi’s until they come to a stop before reaching the doors to the bedrooms.

“It seems a bit ludicrous, doesn’t it?” Akaashi turns toward Kenma, his head cocked to the side in question. “To make everyone in the world immune to disease?” Akaashi sighs, wringing his fingers together in what Kenma assumes in a nervous habit. “I don’t quite believe it’s a possibility.”

Kenma’s steadily rising hope in his situation takes a dip. It’s comforting, in a sense, to know that he’s not alone in his doubts, but the naive part of his brain that wants a simple, better explanation for why he’s now trapped in this unfamiliar place, wants everyone to believe the way Kuroo does.

“It may not be a possibility just yet,” Akaashi continues as he pulls his fingers apart to run them through the hair that curls over his ear. “But that doesn’t mean it can’t be in the future.”

When he meets Akaashi’s eyes, he doesn’t expect to see that desire to know if this really can be something real. Perhaps everyone has that naive part of their brain that wants to believe.

“Kuroo may be a bit too trusting, but I too want to believe this is for a good cause.” Akaashi gestures toward the doors that line the hall. “Everyone here deserves a cause like Kuroo’s and is it so wrong to want to protect the world from something we can’t truly eliminate? Disease cannot be eradicated. It’s a part of life and we’re only human. But we can try to fight it with everything we have, can’t we? We owe it to ourselves to try.”

_Disease is a part of life._

Kenma blinks. He remembers saying those exact words to Kuroo the night before and Kuroo found an argument against them. But Akaashi incorporates his argument with Kuroo’s. He doesn’t deny Kenma’s statement, but he allows it to give Kuroo’s a purpose.

“Yes,” Kenma breathes. He lifts his head and meets Akaashi’s encouraging smile with a faint one of his own. He’s about to open his mouth to say more when a shout comes from the nearest room.

“WHAT?”

“Ah, he’s awake.”

Kenma cocks his head to the side as Kuroo’s voice follows Akaashi’s statement.

“No, no,” Kuroo says, his voice rising with a teasing lilt. “You’re too tired. You stay in bed. But don’t expect me to save you a piece. I’m not gonna get in the way of Oikawa and his pizza.”

Curious, Kenma takes a tentative step forward, but Akaashi throws an arm out to stop him just as the bedroom door bursts open. Kenma’s hair flutters in front of his face from the breeze. A man slides to a stop outside, a whirlwind of energy. His black and white hair stands up in a way that can only be described as the top of an owl’s head, almost like ears.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi greets with a nod of his head.

“Akaashi?” A wide grin spreads across Bokuto’s face as he steps forward to grab Akaashi’s shoulders. The picture of seriousness, he says, “They have pizza today.”

Akaashi nods. “I am aware.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Bokuto’s bottom lip juts out in a pout of epic proportions. He steps away as if he’s truly been betrayed. “You know how much I love pizza.”

“Then it’s a very good thing Kuroo-san was kind enough to go out of his way to tell you, wasn’t it?”

Bokuto’s grin returns as Kuroo steps out of the room, a lopsided, triumphant smirk on his face. “Best friend of the year award goes to…” Kuroo applauds for himself and shoves Bokuto forward. “You’re gonna miss it, bro. Oh!”

Kenma jumps when Kuroo glances around Bokuto to catch his eye. 

“Didn’t see you there, kitten.”

“Kenma,” Kenma mutters with a frown, staring straight back at Kuroo.

Kuroo’s smirk widens. “Right,” he reaches out, placing a hand on Kenma’s shoulder. Kenma jumps, if only because he’s worried that spark will return, but through the fabric he can only feel the comforting warmth of Kuroo’s hand. To his credit, Kuroo ignores Kenma’s flinch and says, “Pizza. You’ve both gotta join us. I’m sure Kou–”

Kuroo turns to gesture toward where Bokuto had been, presumably to introduce him, but the space is empty. Bokuto is already halfway down the hall.

“You did encourage him, Kuroo-san.” Akaashi voice is a light reprimand.

“Dammit,” Kuroo spins on his heel, lifting his hand in goodbye as he takes off down the hall shouting. “You better not eat the whole damn thing, ya bastard!”

Akaashi chuckles and Kenma can’t help the faint smile that tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Their enthusiasm rarely wavers,” Akaashi tells him as he gestures down the hall. “We should join them if we’d like any food to ourselves.”

“Yeah,” Kenma nods, allowing Akaashi to guide him down the hall.

Though Bokuto is overwhelming, his hyperactive personality almost too much for Kenma to handle, he finds a modicum of comfort in the sight of someone so joyful in a place as dreary as this. He’s brought back to Akaashi’s explanation, how it isn’t just his own will that gets him through. He thinks back to the scars on his arm and how someone sat at his bedside, someone who cared. It’s the people that make a place, he reminds himself. These people aren’t so bad.

* * *

 

Eating pizza with the group of people Kuroo and Akaashi consider friends turns out to be more enjoyable than Kenma wants to admit. Bokuto’s enthusiasm never wanes. He challenges Kuroo to an eating contest and wolfs down more pieces of pizza than Kenma himself could eat in a week. Kuroo caves halfway through and dramatically drapes himself across the table, claiming to have a stomach ache from all the cheese.

“You may want to slow down for your stomach as well, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi warns, pressing a hand against Bokuto’s shoulder. Bokuto, who still has a string of cheese hanging from his lips tries for a sheepish smile.

Kenma watches the display before turning back in time to catch Kuroo’s grin and a wink. He knows color has risen to his cheeks as he turns away, ignoring the way Kuroo bumps his shoulder against his own as he pulls himself off the table.

“Oi, Kenma.”

Kenma’s glances to the side, adamantly keeping his head turned away from Kuroo.

“What was Akaashi telling you? How devastatingly handsome I am?”

Though he tries to suppress it, Kenma can’t help but snort in response.

Kuroo chuckles and leans against Kenma’s side. “Only kidding. He has eyes for someone else.”

Kenma finally relents and turns toward the table. He has a pretty good idea who has caught Akaashi’s eye and a pretty good idea who sat by his side while he suffered. He noticed it the moment Akaashi’s arm caught him across the chest, when he predicted Bokuto’s reaction and saved Kenma from being bowled over by that enthusiasm. He can see it in the way Akaashi’s eyes crinkle when he smiles at Bokuto. He can see it in the way he smiles, the way he just seems to know what Bokuto does or doesn’t need.

There’s no lack of warmth on Bokuto’s end either. His smiles are just as fond, his eyes just as wide and full of Akaashi as Akaashi’s are of him.

Kenma has never had anyone like that, but he’s seen it before. And it may be the situation, the cold, desolate surroundings in the facility, but a part of him wants that. He wants to be able to look back on a scar like Akaashi’s and think not of pain, but of the person who helped him through it.

“I hope he wasn’t saying anything to scare you off.”

Kuroo’s voice breaks through his musings, drawing his attention toward him. Kuroo’s eyes are slightly wider, his expression expectant, almost worried. Kenma bites the inside of his cheek and shakes his head. Far from it. Akaashi offered an explanation he could better understand.

“No,” Kenma finally says. “I haven’t been scared off.”

A wide, dazzling grin breaks across Kuroo’s face and Kenma can help but add, “Yet” just to watch his face fall in an almost comical fashion.

“Yet?” Kuroo splutters, gesturing toward the torn up remains of the pizza and his small group of friends that surrounds it. “How could anyone be afraid of this?”

Kenma glances past Kuroo, watching as Akaashi encourages Bokuto to drink the glass of water in front of him to avoid choking. Two more of Kuroo’s friends had joined the table, Iwaizumi and Oikawa they had said when they introduced themselves, and Oikawa’s smile and laughter is so infectious, Iwaizumi’s smile so gentle despite his burly demeanor that Kenma almost can’t stop himself from smiling along with him.

“You’re right,” he admits with a shrug. “Nothing scary here.”

Kuroo visibly relaxes, his arm coming to rest against Kenma’s. They sit in a comfortable, amicable silence. Iwaizumi and Oikawa bicker amongst one another about the effectiveness of pizza on the group’s morale. Bokuto has given up trying to inhale the remains of the pizza, finally allowing others to freely reach in and grab a slice without worrying about it disappearing before they can snatch it. Kuroo laughs when the conversation requires laughter, is contemplative when he needs to be, encouraging where he should. There is an ease amongst these people, an understanding that they’re all in it together as Akaashi had stated before.

_You are not in this alone._

“So,” Kuroo stretches forward, leaning an elbow on the table and placing his cheek in his hand. It’s the first time Kenma notices the way Kuroo is watching him. He’s intent, interested, barely focused on the others surrounding him even though he’s made it seem as though he was a part of everything they were saying. “I know last night was difficult.”

Kenma doesn’t deny it. He can still remember the way he lost control of his body mere seconds after injection, how terrifying it felt.

“I can’t sympathize entirely.” Kuroo reaches around his nape and Kenma knows he’s touching the tattoo he likely has there. “And I guess I can’t promise any other tests will be better.” Kuroo grimaces. “I’m… shit, I’m not entirely sure where I’m going with this. What I want to say is, I can be there for you. I mean, we all can, but…. You know what I mean? My experiments are generally before everyone else and… I have the time. If you need someone.” He places a tentative hand against Kenma’s shoulder. “Not that I’m implying that you aren’t strong enough to get through it yourself. You seem pretty damn tough to me considering you held your own against that serum and it had Kou bouncing off the walls and–”

“I’d like that,” Kenma interrupts softly.

“–eh? You would?” Kuroo’s eyes sparkle as he smiles. “I mean, I’m not even sure they’ll let me in for all of them, but if you want me there then I’ll push for it.”

Kenma nods. He can’t help the small smile that spreads across his lips.

“You know,” Kuroo taps the side of Kenma’s foot with his own. There’s a devilish grin that spreads across his lips and makes Kenma grimace. “You agreed to that pretty easily. You must like me, huh?”

Kenma stares at Kuroo, the picture of disinterest. “You were rambling,” he deadpans.

“Hah?” The grin never disappears as he drapes an arm over Kenma’s shoulders and pulls him in for an affectionate, but teasing, hair ruffle.

With a huff of feigned annoyance, Kenma jerks out of Kuroo’s grasp and shakes out his mussed up hair. Kuroo’s laughter is like a blanket, warm and comforting as it wraps around him. Kuroo is nothing but genuine in his mirth, his concern, his love for the people around him. It baffles Kenma how someone can be so welcoming, so trusting when they don’t even know someone. But Kuroo never hesitated to open his arms and pull Kenma in, even if he resisted.

“I don’t get it,” he admits with a shrug that brings Kuroo’s attention back to him. “You don’t even… none of you know me.” He glances around at the rest of Kuroo’s friends. Akaashi dips his head in acknowledgment and offers an encouraging smile. “How can you be so…” open? So trusting? He doesn’t understand. He’s never been one to take to people so easily, but here he finds himself wanting the camaraderie.

Kuroo glances at his friends, his expression softening. “Because we understand,” he replies. “We’re all a part of the same team, the same body. We are the blood that flows through these veins. We keep the oxygen moving, the mind working. We can’t do that by ourselves. We don’t leave anyone behind.”

It’s easy to see just how true Kuroo’s words ring. _We don’t leave anyone behind_. Though he was always one to enjoy his time alone, it’s comforting to know that if he needs someone they won’t hesitate to be there. With a soft huff of acknowledgment, Kenma turns his face away. He’s smiling now, despite how hard he tries not to, and he doesn’t want Kuroo to see.

He feels Kuroo shift beside him, leaning forward to try and get a better view. “Are you smiling?”

“I’m not,” Kenma mutters, leaning away from him. He’s thankful his hair is long enough to hide his face.

“You totally are.” He can hear the grin in Kuroo’s voice.

“I’m not,” he denies again.

“You are.”

“… I’m not.”

With a soft chuckle, Kuroo places his chin in his hand and turns away. When Kenma peers around his curtain of hair, he catches a smile on Kuroo’s face. A light smile that tells him Kuroo doesn’t believe what he’s saying now, but that he doesn’t mind, and Kenma realizes he likes that.

* * *

 

Kuroo wishes his words were a lie when he told Kenma he couldn’t promise that the serums would get any better. Because they didn’t.

If anything, they got worse. He’s held Kenma’s hair back as he heaved what little he could out of an already empty stomach. He’s run his fingers through Kenma’s hair as he pressed his head against Kuroo’s chest, trying to fight off a headache so bad he couldn’t speak around his own whimpering. Kenma now bears his own small scars from rashes that have broken out across his skin, but they’re minimal and Kuroo is grateful that they haven’t left anything deeper.

At least, he likes to believe they haven’t.

But the fact that Kenma is adjusting to life in the facility brings a modicum of comfort to Kuroo. Kenma can easily navigate the halls, knows where everyone’s rooms are, knows which section houses the gym, the entertainment room, the cafeteria. He knows where the showers are and which ones have the best water pressure–thanks to Kuroo himself. Kuroo is always more than willing to share all of the little secrets he’s accumulated over the years.

What Kuroo loves most is how Kenma has assimilated into the group of people that have to suffer with him, how he’s readily accepted the fact that he’s not alone and knows he can lean on others if he needs to. And Kuroo is secretly glad he’s the one chosen to be leaned on the most.

Everything feels so easy.

He should’ve known smooth sailing doesn’t last forever. A storm will always inevitably make some waves.

* * *

 

“Mind if I come in?”

Kenma doesn’t open his eyes when Kuroo comes in, doesn't look in Kuroo’s direction. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut and offers the barest nod of his head. There’s already a chair beside his bed, ready for him. Kuroo can’t help but smile at the little gesture as he slowly makes his way across the room.

“They've cleared me to come invade your personal space,” Kuroo tells him as he sinks into the chair.

Kenma nods again, letting out a soft exhale. He reaches a shaky hand to the side and Kuroo grasps the tips of his fingers, his own drawing a path up to absently press against the pulse point on Kenma’s wrist. Kenma's heartbeat is erratic, soft and steady one second, spiking the next.

“Dizziness?” Kuroo asks, already knowing the answer.

“Lost consciousness,” Kenma corrects. “And now dizzy.”

“Right,” Kuroo nods, sliding his finger down to draw symbols on the palm of Kenma’s hand. It’s a habit he’s picked up over the few weeks they’ve spent together in these rooms. It keeps Kenma’s mind off the effect of whatever serum they’re testing.

“Level five.”

The soft reminder makes Kuroo’s heart clench. At most, the serum made the room waver for barely more than a second for him. Then the feeling was gone. Sugawara had made another note, let loose another heavy sigh, before giving Kuroo permission to find Kenma’s room to keep him company.

“You get to have all the fun,” Kuroo jokes, writing out the word jealous in Kenma’s hand.

Kenma huffs, a soft sound almost akin to a derisive laugh. It has to be a joke, of course. Kuroo knows Kenma would never wish this on him and, truthfully, he doesn’t even want to wish it on himself. Though while he’s thankful for his body’s resistance to nearly all the serums they test, he can’t help but wish he could sympathize with all his friends who have to suffer through new symptoms every week.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever craved a milkshake as much as I’m craving one today,” Kuroo says, throwing out the mindless chatter that helps keep Kenma’s focus on him. “And the saddest part… Suga says they won’t have another shipment of ice cream for at least another three days. Can you believe that? They’re gonna deprive me for that long.”

“Don’t need it,” Kenma mutters, his fingers twitch when Kuroo grazes a nail over the ticklish spot on his wrist.

Kuroo’s lips twitch upward as he does it again.

“Stop…” 

He can see a smile through Kenma’s protest.

“Yeah, yeah.” Kuroo catches Kenma’s fingers, absently lacing theirs together. His hand engulfs Kenma’s, the difference in their size almost startling. “It’s a wonder you can win any of your games with hands like these.” His thumb brushes a line up the back of Kenma’s hand.

“You’re still sore about me beating you in Mario Kart…”

“I resent that accusation,” Kuroo grumbles, marveling at how soft Kenma’s skin is. “Besides, I beat Kou. And Tooru. I think I deserve a gold star for beating those freaks.”

After several sessions of talking Kenma through the serum effects, he had learned that Kenma had a deep, if reluctantly admitted, love of video games. It was easy enough to fulfill this need for them, as Bokuto had already had a Wii ordered and set up in the entertainment room, but Kuroo used his own points from the payment system used in the facility to purchase a handheld device and some games for Kenma about a week and half ago. It sits on the table beside his head and Kuroo can’t help but smile seeing it at Kenma’s side even now.

“You know, if you’re feeling up to it later, we should have a rematch.”

Kenma huffs again and if his eyes were open Kuroo knows he’d be rolling them. “You’re gonna lose again.”

“You can’t make that prediction.” He gently squeezes Kenma’s hand.

“You will.”

“Will not.”

“… you will.”

Kuroo chuckles and tilts his head toward the ceiling. “But seriously, let’s have some fun after–”

They both jump when a load crash echoes from down the hall, immediately followed by a shout of, “Just leave me alone!” in a voice Kuroo instantly recognizes as Oikawa. He blanches, turning back toward Kenma to catch one eye cracked open. Kenma gives a weak squeeze of his hand in response before letting his eye flutter back shut.

“Go ahead,” Kenma whispers. “I’ll be okay. It’s fading.”

Kuroo bites his bottom lip and nods before realizing Kenma’s eyes are closed. He pushes his chair back with a soft screech and leans forward to brush Kenma’s bangs from his forehead. “I’ll come get you when I’m done?”

“If you take long, I’m walking back on my own,” Kenma warns, bringing a brief smile to Kuroo’s lips. He can’t help but admire just how stubborn and resolute Kenma can be.

“Got it, kitten.”

“ _Kenma_.”

“Got it.”

* * *

 

Kuroo pauses before the open doorway. He can see Sugawara standing just inside, a hand up in a weak attempt to placate a wavering Oikawa. He can see the stress etched into Sugawara’s furrowed brow and knows what sort of mood Oikawa is likely in to bring about such an expression.

Steeling himself for the worst, Kuroo pushes the door open further and steps inside.

“Suga, I can handle this.”

Sugawara glances at him over his shoulder, shooting him an apologetic, if grateful, look before turning back to Oikawa to say, “You know where to find me if you need me.” He ignores Oikawa’s snort of irritation before adding, “Please try to sit down. You’ll feel better. I promise.”

Sugawara retreats as Oikawa barks, “Your promises mean as much as your dedication to the real cause here, Refreshing-kun. And you and I both know that’s waning, at best. So thanks for the reassuring words.”

"Tooru, come on. That wasn't fair." Kuroo sighs and grips his nape, brushing his fingers over his tattoo as he takes a step closer to Oikawa. With a nearly animalistic snarl, Oikawa lashes out. His arm whips forward, throwing him off balance and nearly spilling him to the floor. Kuroo catches his arm in time to keep him from stumbling, but Oikawa rips it out of his grasp, squeezing his eyes shut as he leans against the wall for support.

“Life isn't fair,” Oikawa rasps, turning to press his forehead against the cool, white wall. “This pain. This goddamn pain, the dizziness, everything. I’m sick of it.”

“I think we all are.” Kuroo doesn’t chance another step forward, but he offers Oikawa his hand. “You’re stronger than this, Tooru. And you don’t have to go through it alone all the time. So many people are willing to be here to help you through it. Iwaizumi would gladly–”

Oikawa slaps Kuroo’s hand away so hard Kuroo flinches and draws the stinging skin up against his chest.

“Don’t you dare mention Iwa-chan to me. You don’t understand what it was like to see them bring him in here. You don’t–” Oikawa slams a hand against the wall as he sways. “This goddamn dizziness. I can’t even stand without this wall for support. Do you even know what this feels like? Do you even know what the hell I’m going through? This… weakness.”

Kuroo shakes his head, backing off the topic of Iwaizumi. It's always been taboo with Oikawa. “It’s not weakness.” He tells him, glancing down at the red welt forming on the back of his hand. “You know, Kenma passed out from it. He’s laying down right now cause he can’t even stand. But he’s fighting it. He’s not giving up. Every day he–”

“I’m sure he’s hiding just how much of a struggle it is to get through every day.” Oikawa snaps, his eyes narrowed dangerously in Kuroo’s direction. Kuroo swallows the lump in his throat, instinctively knowing he won’t like what comes next. “We’re all sick of the suffering…” Oikawa pauses, his eyes drifting shut as he takes a deep breath to cope with the nausea that he fights against when he's dizzy. When he opens them again there’s a fire there, a fury that makes Kuroo’s blood run cold. “Except you. You don’t suffer with us. You’re nothing more than an observer. Might as well put on a lab coat, Tetsu-chan. I’m sure you have plenty of juicy notes you can offer to this cause.”

Kuroo reels back, his eyes wide. Oikawa’s glare never wavers. The truth of the words resonate deeper than Kuroo wishes to admit. He doesn’t know real suffering here, does he? Not when he’s nearly immune to everything thrown at him. He’s no where near close to understanding why he remains unaffected any more than the men who inject them all with any new concoction they come up with. 

The guilt eats at him after every experiment more and more. Especially now that he’s sat by Kenma’s bedside on more occasions than he can count. Especially since he’s seen the pain, heard it, felt it in his heart when he sees their tears, hears their cries. And he can’t do anything about it.

“You’re right,” Kuroo admits with a mournful frown. “You’re right. I don’t suffer the way you guys do. I can’t even pretend to. But I know that every single one of you are strong enough to beat this. We’re here together. We flow as one.” He thinks about Kenma’s stubborn resolve to walk himself back to his room. “And if someone like Kenma can pick himself up after every experiment and walk back to his room still believing in what we’re trying to accomplish here, I know you can too.”

Oikawa snorts and rolls his eyes. He groans and presses his head against the wall again, likely fighting back another dizzy wave before he says, “That’s another thing, Tetsu-chan. It’s about time your little plaything stop being so naive. It’s not like any of us are gonna survive this.”

Kuroo’s lips curl into a snarl, immediately ready to defend Kenma, when Oikawa’s gaze shifts over Kuroo’s back and the color drains from his face.

“Oh shit… I…” Oikawa stammers, turning his head to hide his face against the wall.

Kuroo slowly turns to glance over his shoulder, meeting the wide, terrified eyes of Kenma. His heart plummets at the sight of such raw fear on his face. When he takes a step in Kenma’s direction, Kenma disappears down the hall. Kuroo curls his fingers into his palm, clenching his fists as he growls, “Dammit, Tooru.”

He bolts out the door, shouting Kenma’s name as he follows him down the hall, hoping and praying to whomever will listen that Kenma will still let him in.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s better to tell the truth, no matter the situation. Kuroo learns this from Kenma and profits from it. Maybe he can teach it to Oikawa. Maybe he can pass on the positivity that came from the truth. One can hope, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [M Trash (Makaria)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Makaria/works) for telling me where the hell I was going wrong and for screaming about this AU through her beta'ing so I could feel pumped about posting this next chapter. :D

Kenma leaves the door open a crack. Open enough so Kuroo doesn’t feel shut out, but closed enough to make him knock when his heavy footsteps come to a stop in front of Kenma’s bedroom. He can hear Kuroo trying to catch his breath, can feel the hesitation that comes before the gentle knock.

“Kenma…” Kuroo knocks again. Still gentle, barely more than a tap. “Kenma, can I come in?”

Kenma wrings his hands in the hem of his shirt. Kuroo sounds so dejected. Defeated even. He knows Kuroo doesn’t agree with Oikawa’s point of view of the facility, knows that it’s not a view Kuroo wants him to adopt either. But Oikawa’s words struck a chord.

The pain can be excruciating. The weakness is terrifying. What hurts most is not knowing. Oikawa said they won’t make it out of here alive. It’s a question that has been orbiting Kenma’s mind day in and day out. Will the next experiment be his last? He’s afraid of death, but he’s more afraid of what will happen to Kuroo if he finds out Kenma is no longer there.

He doesn’t know when this feeling started overwhelming his fear, but the more time he spends with Kuroo, the more he knows how easily his own death could break him.

Kenma doesn’t want to shut Kuroo out. He doesn’t want to lie to him. He wants answers. He wants the truth.

“Kenma, please,” Kuroo breaths. The door creaks open an inch.

“You can come in,” Kenma finally says, instinctively shifting to the opposite end of the bed to make room for Kuroo beside him.

Kuroo slides into the room, barely opening the door more than enough to fit inside. He hesitates, pulling his fingers through his forever disheveled hair. Kenma sighs and pats the bed beside him, expectant. Relief washes across Kuroo’s face before he crosses the room and slowly lowers himself onto the mattress.

“Kenma,” Kuroo begins. He doesn’t reach out to touch Kenma like he normally would. He’s still reluctant, maybe wondering if he can. “I don’t really know what to say. I know what you heard and–”

Kenma is the one to reach out, the one to touch first. His fingers tentatively brush the back of Kuroo’s hand. Kuroo flinches, his eyes blowing wide. His stare asks if it’s okay, begs for forgiveness that Kenma doesn’t think Kuroo needs because he has nothing to apologize for. He didn’t bring Kenma here.  
Without hesitating, Kenma slips his hand into Kuroo’s, carefully lacing their fingers together. Despite the difference in size–Kuroo’s hand engulfs his own–they fit. They fit perfectly. It’s a comfort Kenma isn’t willing to lose and one he feels like Kuroo believes he doesn’t deserve.

“You can tell me the truth,” Kenma says softly. His thumb gingerly brushes across the side of Kuroo’s wrist.

“The truth…” Kuroo grimaces. “I haven’t been…” His head falls back, a rush of air released in a frustrated huff. “If I lied… I didn’t mean to. I do believe in what they’re trying to do here.”

“I know that.” Kenma tilts to the side, pressing his shoulder against Kuroo’s arm. “But there’s a difference between what you believe and what’s real.”  
Kuroo’s grip on his hand tightens. He lifts his head and meets Kenma’s patient, questioning gaze.

“I don’t know what’s the real truth anymore, Kenma,” Kuroo admits with a frown. “I’ve been here so long I can’t even remember what it’s like outside. I can’t remember where I used to live, who I used to see every day, what I used to do out there… What I believe is what is real for me.” Kuroo pauses and glances at Kenma, catching the surprised look on his face. “It doesn’t mean that Oikawa is wrong.”

“Kuroo.” Kenma frowns, staring at their linked hands. “How long have you been here?”

“Since I was six. My parents…” Kuroo sighs. “My parents gave me over to this place when I turned six.”

Kenma pales at the thought. Kuroo at six years old, small, confused, willingly given up by the only people a child should be able to trust. His hand shakes in Kuroo’s grasp and Kuroo is the one to offer a comforting brush of skin.

“You’ve been in here for…”

“Almost twenty years, yeah.” Kuroo smiles and Kenma has never seen an expression so heartbreaking. “They were friends with the man who opened the facility. They were doctors too. I guess they believed in this so that’s why I do.” Kuroo sighs and rubs his free hand down the side of his face. “They were supposed to come get me in a year or two, but they were in an accident when I turned eight and the contract they signed basically gave the facility the rights to my life. I guess you can say this place adopted me.”

Kenma has no words. He thinks back to when he was picked up. When his parents died he was given a choice, wasn’t he? He had been told he didn’t have to sign and saw no better options. He has no one else outside here. He doesn’t know his extended family and he was too introverted to bother making friends outside the people he spoke to online when he played his games. This place gave him a roof over his head, food to eat. It gave him the chance to avoid having to think, to worry about who he would go to, how he would survive. The only price to pay was his suffering.

Kuroo wasn’t given that choice. Kuroo never knew what it was like to struggle through having friends, or not having them. He didn’t have the normal struggles of life outside the facility because the facility is all he knows.

“Kuroo…”

“Oikawa came next,” Kuroo continues, pausing to give Kenma the chance to stop him. Kenma nods for him to keep speaking. “His parents gave him up too. His mother passed away and him and his father were on… well, Oikawa hopes the man is dead so I doubt they were ever on good terms. The only reason he was upset was because of a friend of his… and eventually he turned up here too.”

Kenma doesn’t have to ask. He already knows that’s Iwaizumi.

“I was confused when they brought Oikawa in because it had only been me up until then.” Kuroo shrugs when Kenma frowns. “The staff was always nice to me. And back when I used to have small reactions to the serums they would coddle me, so I would make a big deal out of everything.”

“That’s why you’re so dramatic,” Kenma deadpans, fighting off a twitch of his lips. Some things make sense.

Kuroo chuckles. “Yeah, I guess so. They encouraged it.” He glances at Kenma’s closet, staring at the jumpsuits within. “I was sixteen when they brought Oikawa in. That was when they brought out the jumpsuits and started with the tattoos.”

Kenma’s hand rises to his, a gesture he’s noticed everyone do since he’s been here. Kuroo mirrors his action and nods.  
“Oikawa is a level three. I didn’t understand what that meant until he was injected.” Kuroo’s expression darkens, his eyes downcast. “That was the first time I heard him scream. It was also around the same time Suga and Sawamura started at the facility. They’re only a couple years older than us so it was easy to relate to them as people and I could get answers out of Suga that no one else had given me before.”

“The levels?” Kenma glances at the bar outlined on Kuroo’s breast pocket.

“Yeah.” Kuroo lifts his free hand to his chest, brushing up the bar. “He explained it was different reaction levels. I’m a one cause I have little to no reaction. Oikawa and Iwaizumi are level threes. Bokuto and Akaashi came in at the same time. They’re both level fours. Their jumpsuits and colors matched one another. It made sense.” Kuroo presses their arms together, drawing Kenma’s attention to the matching color of their jumpsuits. “When I saw yours, I was confused all over again. But Oikawa found out for me. I was never in any category. I was always on my own. Now we’re the extremes. Extremes on the opposite sides of the spectrum.”

“Turning me into you… would be a great accomplishment then.”

“I would assume so.”

Kuroo shifts, slipping his hand out of Kenma’s grasp. Kenma laments the loss of Kuroo’s warmth against his palm, even as Kuroo drapes his arm over his shoulders. He taps the side of Kenma’s arm and holds out his hand expectantly. Kenma stares for only a moment before lifting his arm, grasping at Kuroo’s wrist as Kuroo’s fingers close around his own. Somehow, this feels more intimate.

“So the truth,” Kenma begins softly. “The truth is hard for you to accept because of all of this?”

“No,” Kuroo replies, tilting his head to the side to rest his cheek against Kenma’s hair. “The truth is these serums are harmful to our bodies, even if they include the vaccine to fight whatever they’re injecting. One of these days, the bad will overcome the good in those serums and they won’t be able to stop it. So maybe Oikawa is right. Maybe there will be a day none of us will be here to see.”

Kenma swallows hard. His mouth is dry, his body begins to shake even as Kuroo pulls him closer.

“But I don’t believe that will happen,” Kuroo adds. “People underestimate just how powerful the will to live is. I’ve been here most of my life and I’m still alive. Maybe that doesn’t count for much.” The sadness in Kuroo’s voice, the regret, makes Kenma push even closer. “I don’t suffer as you all do. I can’t even begin to remember the pain. But I know each and every one of you is a fighter. Each of you has an iron will, an iron wall to block out the worst of this. Oikawa may falter sometimes, but he’s one of the strongest people I know. He won’t let himself die in here. He’s too stubborn. That will keep him alive. That and the fact that he knows he always has someone. He counts on that support even though he won’t admit it. He’ll never lose.”

Kuroo turns his head, his lips brush Kenma’s temple when he turns to meet Kuroo’s gaze. “Neither will you.”

Kenma pulls back, gives himself room to really see Kuroo. Up close Kenma can see the lines of worry, the bags under Kuroo’s eyes. He can see the years of pain, of lying to himself, the way his shoulders bow forward like the weight is almost too much to bear. Kuroo has suffered. He’s probably suffered more than anyone here. He still suffers now, plaguing himself with guilt for not feeling pain when Kenma is glad he’s free of at least one burden. Kenma is shocked he’s been able to handle everything for so long.

He doesn’t have to think about it anymore when he pulls his hand away to slip his arm around Kuroo’s neck. His fingers absently brush at the tattoo he can’t feel, but knows is there, before he tightens his grip on Kuroo’s nape and pulls him downward.

When their lips meet, Kuroo tenses. His arm around Kenma’s shoulders tightens with confusion before he finally gives in and allows himself to relax. Kuroo is warm, his touch gentle, but he’s holding back, waiting for Kenma to give him permission to go further. When Kenma shifts into his lap, he lets loose a soft whimper, a happy sound that brings a quick smile to Kenma’s lips.

A warm weight settles on his waist and Kenma realizes Kuroo's arms are tight around him. It’s a comforting warmth, a comforting weight. He hopes it relieves some of Kuroo’s. His shoulders feel straighter.

He pulls back with a soft gasp, his eyes fluttering open to stare dazedly at Kuroo’s equally blissful face.

“You shocked me…” Kuroo breathes, a lopsided smile spreading across his lips.

Kenma sighs, content. His forehead comes to rest against Kuroo’s. “I think you’re the one who shocked me.”

* * *

 

After talking to Kenma, Kuroo remembers Oikawa’s outburst and, on Kenma’s urging, wanders off to find him and talk to him about it. As he walks the halls, he absently toys with the buttons of his jumpsuit, a nervous habit of his that Oikawa always used to make fun of. Kuroo can’t help but be nervous though. An angry Oikawa is difficult to deal with, but an angry, guilt-ridden Oikawa is even worse.

He knows where Oikawa will be. He knows Oikawa almost as well as he knows himself, after all. Oikawa was his first friend. At least, he was the first friend that Kuroo can remember having.

His life before the facility is not even a blur, not even a memory. He doesn’t remember his parents outside the facility walls. He remembers when they dropped him off, their faces as they left the room. He wishes he could say he saw regret in their eyes.  
When Oikawa came in, Kuroo had been so excited and so scared at the same time. He wasn’t sure how to go about making friends, but, “Damn, you’re pretty,” seemed like a good way to break the ice.

With a heavy sigh, Kuroo turns the last corner, heading into the abandoned recreational room in Oikawa’s wing of the facility. When the main entertainment room was built, the smaller rooms designated to specific boarding wings were all but forgotten. But Oikawa never quite gave up on his.

Oikawa sits at the edge of the couch in the center of the room. The television in the corner is on, but the sound is off and a puzzle sits on the table in front of him, unfinished. It has always been unfinished, like he can’t quite figure out a way to get to the end. Kuroo tries not to think about the fact that Oikawa might be leaving it that way as a metaphor. It would be like him to leave morbid little hints like that.

From the doorway, Kuroo can see the way Oikawa’s shoulders slump, the way he wraps his arms around himself like he’s afraid he’ll break if he doesn’t hold himself together. And he’s still so beautiful. Kuroo remembers being struck dumb when Oikawa first entered the facility. He had never seen someone so attractive before. Suffering has only made Oikawa more beautiful.

He’s not beautiful in the way that Kenma is beautiful. Kenma is beautiful in his subtleties, in the way he doesn’t have to speak to catch the eye. Oikawa is raw power, stronger than the sun and quite possibly just as deadly. Kuroo got too close before and he will always carry the burns.

But he won’t regret them.

He remembers feeling like he would never love someone as much as he loved Oikawa, never believing someone could ever draw him in the way Oikawa had. He knows now that what he felt wasn’t the kind of love he believed it was. It was comfort. Oikawa was his friend, his partner in more ways than one. He was a comfort, both physically and emotionally, and Kuroo mistook that comfort as being in love.

Then again, he hadn’t known any better.

When Iwaizumi came in and Kuroo saw the way Oikawa looked at him, that raw, broken expression mixed with unbearable adoration, he understood. He knew that Oikawa had cared for him, but never loved him. As much as it hurt, he wasn’t going to get between what was so obviously a pair of soulmates. He wouldn’t mess with fate.

Their past will forever be a rollercoaster of emotion for him, but it’s because of their past that he can forgive Oikawa for anything, for everything.

“How long are you going to stand in the doorway, Tetsu-chan?”

Kuroo sighs when Oikawa glances over his shoulder. “And here I thought your spidey senses stopped tingling years ago.”

Oikawa snorts and gently pats the seat of the couch beside him. “Clearly I’ve still got it.”

Kuroo slowly pads across the room to sink into the space next to Oikawa. He doesn’t bother keeping his distance. He never has. When he leans in, slipping an arm around Oikawa’s shoulders and pulling him close, Oikawa doesn’t resist. He relaxes into the hold, tilting until his head rests on Kuroo’s shoulder.

They sit like that in silence for a while. It’s a silence that speaks volumes. Oikawa’s frustration still simmers under the surface, but the fact that he didn’t pull away shows Kuroo that he’s sorry, that he genuinely feels terrible about what was said, about what happened back in the exam room.

“You know I didn’t mean any of it,” Oikawa finally mutters, his voice is barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t mean… you know I’d never…”

Kuroo places a comforting hand on Oikawa’s knee. “Yeah.” He doesn’t have to say anything else.

Oikawa sighs. He moves a hand to lightly brush his fingertips over Kuroo’s knuckles. “Kenma,” he begins, pressing his fingers against Kuroo’s skin. “Is he okay? I know he heard…”

“He’s okay.” Kuroo’s lips curl into a smile and he tilts his head to the side so Oikawa won’t see.

But just as he knows Oikawa so well, Oikawa knows him.

“So you finally confessed.” It’s not a question. Oikawa knew about his feelings before Kuroo even realized them himself. “At least something good came out of that outburst.”

Kuroo squeezes Oikawa’s shoulders and presses his lips to his forehead. “You know, I didn’t really have to say anything,” Kuroo tells him with a wistful smile. “I think he already knew.”

“Everyone knew, idiot,” Oikawa grumbles. Kuroo doesn’t doubt this. Oikawa either spread the news himself or everyone was smarter and more observant that Kuroo was. The latter is very likely. “So did you tell him?”

“Tell him…” Kuroo shifts against Oikawa, breathes out a heavy sigh. “Uh… yeah.” He reaches around his neck and presses his fingers against the tattoo. “He knows I basically grew up here. He was pretty…"

“He is pretty,” Oikawa agrees with a nod and a tired smirk.

Kuroo flicks his knee. “That’s not what I meant, asshole.” Another smile spreads across Kuroo’s lips against his will. “But yeah, he is pretty.”

“Shaken,” Oikawa supplies as an afterthought. “I know I was when you told me.”

“Yeah, that’s a good word to describe it.” Kuroo rests his cheek against Oikawa’s soft hair. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to people’s pity over that.”

Oikawa doesn’t respond and Kuroo knows where his mind is going. The only person who ever looked at Kuroo like his childhood made him stronger was Iwaizumi. When he admitted his past to Iwaizumi he hadn’t seen pity. Iwaizumi had pressed a hand against Kuroo shoulder and said, “And you can still smile. That says something.” And he smiled back. Oikawa was there. Oikawa was smiling too. Kuroo was sure that was the moment Oikawa realized he suffered in his own way too.

“Tooru,” Kuroo begins softly, hesitant to broach the subject but knowing someone has to. It has to be someone Oikawa will listen to, someone who understands. He wishes he could turn to Iwaizumi for help, but he knows you shouldn’t ask the source of the problem to help with the problem itself.

“Tetsurou, I really don’t want to talk about this.” Oikawa’s voice is barely more than a whisper, but there’s so much venom in his response that Kuroo can practically feel it in his veins. Oikawa rarely uses his full name.

“It’s something that needs to be talked about.”

“Listen,” Oikawa’s warning voice is like a whip. “Just because you had your happy little reveal with Kenma doesn’t mean I can have the same thing. This is a different situation. How about you be a little sensitive about it and just drop it when I ask–”

“I’ve been sensitive about it for the past half a year, Tooru,” Kuroo replies, sighing heavily. “It’s about time you tell me what’s up. If you don’t want to talk to Iwaizumi, then don’t. I’m not asking you to do that yet. Just get it off your chest,” Kuroo dips a hand into the collar of Oikawa’s shirt, aiming to press his hand against Oikawa’s heart for emphasis. “Just–”

Oikawa shoves away so fiercely that Kuroo slips off the couch, landing with a hard thud on the ground. He stares up at Oikawa who clutches the fabric across his chest so tight his knuckles whiten.

“What the hell, Tooru?” Kuroo scowls from the floor, rubbing his lower back as he pushes himself to his feet. “You just shoved me away like you’ve never been touched before. We’ve done more than--”

Oikawa bends forward, pulling his legs up to his chest as he draws in a shaky breath. “I can’t…” he whispers. His voice sounds more broken than Kuroo has ever remembered hearing. “You don’t understand, Tetsu… you don’t… I’m not the same anymore.”

Stricken, Kuroo slides back onto the couch beside Oikawa, tentatively placing a comforting hand against his back. “Hey…” He rubs Oikawa’s back in small circles. “Hey, it’s okay.“

"It’s not.” Oikawa’s voice is hoarse, the voice of someone trying not to cry.

“None of us are the same anymore, Tooru.” There’s so much he wants to say, but sometimes Oikawa doesn’t want to hear what Kuroo has to say. Sometimes Oikawa tells him that he doesn’t think Kuroo has the right words. And maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he needs to stop trying to look on a bright side that might have become too dim.

“You don’t get it, Tetsu.” Oikawa leans away from him, tightening his grip on his legs. “I’m not the same at all. He knew an Oikawa who was happy, confident, could handle pain. He knew me when I wasn’t afraid of my own reflection. Iwa-chan will never accept me for what I’ve become.”

Kuroo blinks, his hand hovering in the empty space behind Oikawa’s back. “What you’ve become…” The words sink in slowly. There’s something Oikawa isn’t telling him, that much he knows. But now he’s speeding through all the possibilities and his mind settles on the small pockmark scars on Akaashi’s arm.

He remembers Akaashi’s screams, and his sobs. He remembers Bokuto arguing with Sawamura until Sawamura finally caved and let Bokuto into the room. He remembers Bokuto’s pained expression when his eyes landed on Akaashi before he nodded to himself and entered the room. Kuroo hadn’t asked about what happened, but Bokuto kept checking on Akaashi’s arm and eventually he saw the marks. 

Akaashi wears them like a badge of pride now. He’s not afraid to tell the story. He’s not afraid of someone’s pity. Kuroo knows he tells them about how he wasn’t alone, how the pain was bearable because someone was by his side to help him bear it.

But if the same thing happened to Oikawa…. Kuroo hadn’t been in the exam rooms anymore when they brought Oikawa back.

Kuroo tries to think back to when Oikawa’s behavior changed. When he stopped leaving the top few buttons of his jumpsuit undone. When he started locking the door to his bathroom when he showered. When he started lying and saying it was too cold in the facility and jumped whenever someone touched him.

It was the same time Akaashi had suffered his own scars.

“Tooru,” Kuroo shifts his hand to Oikawa’s shoulder, ignoring the way Oikawa tries to flinch away. “The serum that scarred Akaashi’s arm, did that–”

“Stop,” Oikawa snaps. His eyes narrow dangerously, flashing with the sudden onslaught of anger. “I said I don’t want to talk about it. I’m already an experiment every other day. I don’t need to be one with you.”

Kuroo reels back, shocked. He knows Oikawa doesn’t mean to rain his frustrations down on him, but it doesn’t make the word lashings hurt any less. He swallows the retort on the tip of his tongue and slides to the floor, kneeling in front of Oikawa.

“You’re a dumbass if you think I’m backing off just because you’re being king douchebag over here.”

Oikawa scowls and tightens his grip on the front of his jumpsuit.

“I don’t know where you were marked,” Kuroo begins, gripping Oikawa’s knees when he tries to shift away. “And I don’t give a shit. Scars aren’t a form of weakness, Tooru. They’re not marks of shame. And they sure as hell don’t make you ugly. Have you seen yourself?”

“I just told you–”

“Right, right.” Kuroo waves Oikawa’s comment away with a flick of his wrist. “You mentioned your reflection. I think it’s about time you look at it. Because I still don’t know anyone more effortlessly gorgeous than you.”

Oikawa snorts, but Kuroo sees the color rising to his cheeks. “Says the one who hasn’t been outside these walls.” With a sigh, Oikawa pulls his free hand through his hair and, of course, it falls perfectly, almost seductively across his forehead. “Says the one in love with the new guy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kuroo smiles despite himself. He can’t stop himself from smiling when he thinks about Kenma. But he pushes those thoughts aside to continue pushing against Oikawa’s resolve. “He’ll understand.” Kuroo slides his hands up Oikawa’s legs before moving to Oikawa’s arms.

Oikawa freezes, his knuckles whitening.

Kuroo doesn’t stop. His hands continue their ascent, up to Oikawa’s shoulders, in toward his neck, down to his collarbones. Kuroo pushes him back against the couch and covers Oikawa’s hands with his own.

“You will never be anything but beautiful in my eyes.” Kuroo’s lips twitch in a gentle smile. “You know that, right?”

Oikawa stares at him, searches his eyes for the lie. Kuroo knows Oikawa is aware there is no lie there. So he waits. He’s had more than enough experience with pushing against Oikawa’s restraint. It only stretches so far until it snaps back in your face. Oikawa has to be the one to step over the edge, to loosen the reigns and finally give in on his own. His stubborn resolve is something Kuroo finds admirable and increasingly frustrating.

With a soft sigh, Oikawa allows Kuroo to slowly pry his fingers away from the front of his jumpsuit. He lets his hands fall to his side, clutching at the cushions of the couch instead. Kuroo sees his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows a lump in his throat.

“Do you trust me?” Kuroo asks as he brings his fingers up to the topmost button.

Tears slide silently down Oikawa’s face despite the defiant set of his jaw. He nods once, barely more than a jerk of his head.

“Can I?”

“Yes…”

Kuroo flicks open the first button and Oikawa jumps.

“I promise it’ll be okay,” Kuroo tells him as he moves on to the next button. Each new opening reveals more skin. He can already see the angry red marks that dot Oikawa’s chest, but he doesn’t point it out. “This much I can promise.”

Oikawa’s chest rises and falls so quickly Kuroo worries he’s hyperventilating. He pushes himself off the ground, continuing to expose more and more skin, one button at a time. He bends forward, pressing his forehead against Oikawa’s.

“Look at me,” Kuroo tells him. “Tooru, just look at me. Nothing else. Take a deep breath.”

Oikawa’s breathing slows when he draws in a deep breath. The air hitches in his throat when Kuroo’s hand dips inward, lightly brushing across his stomach. Kuroo feels Oikawa’s stomach pull in, instinctively drawing away from the touch. But Kuroo persists.

His fingers brush up Oikawa’s abdomen, up the center of his chest until he can lay his palm flat over his heart. It does feel different. The scars are rough, but not unpleasantly so, and Kuroo smiles softly in the knowledge that he was right. They don’t make Oikawa any less beautiful. If possible, they make him even more alluring than he has ever been before.

“Do you hear that?” Kuroo asks, using his free hand to gently pull Oikawa’s away from the couch cushion. He brings Oikawa’s hand up to his own heart. “The sight of you still makes my heart race, you beautiful asshole.”

Oikawa lets out a shaky laugh that sounds a little more like a sob than amusement.

“Do you understand now?” Kuroo slowly moves his hand up to cup around Oikawa’s nape. “These don’t change who you are. You’ll always be the same gorgeous, pompous ass we all know and love."

Oikawa scowls through the tears, but Kuroo can tell he’s using it to cover up a smile.

“I think it’s about time you told Iwaizumi the truth.”

“Don’t bother.”

Both of them jump at the sound of the deep voice coming from the doorway. Kuroo pulls back, looking past Oikawa’s paling face to see Iwaizumi. His expression is tight, barely concealing a fury that’s already washing over the room. Kuroo’s eyes widen.

“Iwaizumi, what–”

“I heard that last line. I can see you two. I’m not blind,” Iwaizumi practically spits. He turns to head out the door. “Good to know I spent years thinking I meant the same to you, Oikawa. Could’ve been honest sooner.”

Oikawa is scrambling to button his jumpsuit back up, throwing himself off the couch with a shout of, “Iwa-chan!”

But Iwaizumi is already halfway down the hall, turning to disappear from view.

Oikawa’s broken expression tears a hole in Kuroo’s heart. He reaches out a comforting hand, but Oikawa tilts just out of reach.

“I’m sorry, Tetsu-chan…” He shakes his head. “I just–”

“Go after him.” Kuroo nods down the hall. “Go after him and explain.”

Oikawa nods and takes off down the hall.

Kuroo stares after him. He knows he shouldn’t follow. He knows better than to intrude on a private moment like this. But he also worries, fears for Oikawa’s sanity, and maybe even for his safety. With a sigh, he ignores the voices in his head telling him this is a bad idea and follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you guys aren't discouraged to continue! Haha!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when Kuroo thinks things may be getting better, another light dims. But his hopes won't be shattered. He's a lot stronger than his past should allow him to be and his friends are just as resilient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the extreme delay in updating this one. I've actually had (most) of it written for a while and then had to get over a hump to finish the rest and then the editing... and all that fun stuff. 
> 
> Many thanks to [MTrash (Makaria)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Makaria/works) for telling me where I was being dumb with wording and helping to make this sound like something readable :3
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Kuroo shouldn't be here. 

He should have stayed in the rec room or gone back to his own room. He should have gone back to Kenma. 

The mere thought of Kenma makes his body ache for his presence like he's never ached for anyone else in his life. 

_He should have gone back to Kenma._

Instead he’s crouched outside Iwaizumi’s room, listening to a conversation he has no business hearing. He knows he's inserting himself as a mediator, whether he speaks out or not, but he doesn't walk away. He needs to know that Oikawa will come out of this okay. 

So he listens. 

“I don't get why you couldn't just tell me the truth.” 

That's Iwaizumi. Kuroo is almost glad he can't see the expression on his face, the hurt in his eyes. He already feels bad enough.

“I never _lied_ to you, Iwa-chan. I--” 

“I saw, Oikawa! I saw! You think you can pass off that kind of intimacy as friendship? How dense do you think I am?”

“I never said you were dense.”

“Bullshit.”

“I never did.” Oikawa’s voice lowers, trembles. “And I never kept that from you. I told you what happened between me and Tetsu-chan. I told you that when you first got here…”

Iwaizumi lets loose a derisive snort. “Yeah, that’s right. You also told me it was over, but I catch you touching each other--”

“We weren't touching each other!” Oikawa’s voice cracks and Kuroo clenches his fist. He can hear the frustration. “You missed a whole conversation before that moment. A whole…” Kuroo can picture the way Oikawa usually shakes his head. The way he throws his hands up when he can't figure out how to get his point across. “You don't understand, Iwa-chan. You don't…”

“I don't want to understand, Oikawa.” 

Kuroo hears shuffling, the creak of bedsprings. 

“I just wanted to know the truth. To hear it from you. And instead I had to find out that way.” Another pause. “I mean, god… Kuroo didn't even say anything and I thought him and I were pretty good friends.”

Kuroo grimaces.

“Kuroo didn't keep anything from you,” Oikawa protests. He defends Kuroo as he always has. “There was nothing to keep from you.”

“Oikawa, just stop. Don't think I don't see the way you look at each other every day.”

“He’s my _friend_. I care about him.”

“Tch. You care about me too.”

“ _I’m in love with you_!” Oikawa’s shout echoes down the hall. Kuroo jumps at what sounds like a fist hitting the wall.

“And with Kuroo,” Iwaizumi counters.

There’s a long pause after that. Kuroo holds his breath. He already knows the answer to this, but he doesn't know if he wants to hear it.

“I've never been in love with Tetsu, Iwa-chan.”

There it is. 

Kuroo swallows the lump in his throat. It shouldn't bother him. He doesn't have feelings for Oikawa either. Not anymore. But he can't deny that it hurts to hear the confirmation that they _never_ existed for Oikawa.

“I don't know what to believe anymore, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi finally says, breaking the weighted silence. 

“Believe me,” Oikawa pleads. 

“I don't know…”

“Do you want to know what Tetsu-chan and I were talking about?”

Iwaizumi sighs. “Not really.”

“You do.” 

Kuroo hears more feet shuffling. The bedspring creaking is softer this time, more hesitant. He's glad Oikawa moved closer.

“It’s something Tetsu-chan has been trying to get me to talk about for a while. He told me I should tell you.”

“Great.” Anger rises in Iwaizumi’s tone again. “So you are keeping something from me.”

“I was keeping something from everyone…” Oikawa’s voice is soft, defeated. A rare tone he only uses around those he really cares about, those he trusts. A tone that shows just how broken Oikawa is. He can't hide it anymore. “It's something you need to see.”

Kuroo can't hear the buttons of Oikawa’s jumpsuit coming undone, but he can picture it. He can still see the mottled skin that he knows Oikawa thinks makes him ugly. Undesirable. But Kuroo has always found scars attractive. He doesn't know if it comes from his upbringing in the facility, being around so many things that leave permanent marks, but he knows he finds them beautiful. 

All scars tell a story. Kuroo believes that living your life past that story, traumatic or otherwise, is the real beauty of it. Oikawa is no different with or without his scars, beautiful inside and out. 

When Iwaizumi makes a sound like a strangled gasp, Kuroo knows Oikawa’s jumpsuit is wide open. He’s hiding nothing anymore. 

“Oikawa, this…”

“This is why I flinch when anyone touches me,” Oikawa explains. “Why I never wear my jumpsuit open anymore. This is why I shower when no one is around, why I lock myself away and avoid my own reflection. It's… silly, I know. But… look at me.”

“I am,” Iwaizumi replies. 

Kuroo hears a sharp intake of breath--Oikawa’s gasp--and knows Iwaizumi has reached out to feel the damage the facility left behind. 

“Does it hurt?”

“N-no… not anymore.”

“And you think this makes you… what? Ugly?”

“It's not pretty,” Oikawa replies after a moment. 

“You're an idiot.” Iwaizumi’s voice sounds strained. “You're such a beautiful idiot. I could kill you.”

“Go ahead,” Oikawa replies dryly. “It would be a reprieve.”

Iwaizumi makes a choking sound, a strangled sob. It's a sound more emotional than Kuroo has ever heard him make before.

And Kuroo knows they’ll be okay. 

“Don't you ever say that again,” Iwaizumi tells him. 

Kuroo hears the bedsprings squeak and Oikawa lets out a shaky whimper. 

“If you think I'm gonna let you go that easily again…”

“Iwa-chan, your tears are staining my jumpsuit.”

Kuroo smiles as he slowly pulls himself to his feet. 

“Shut up, asshole.”

* * *

 

Kuroo returns to his room to find Kenma asleep in his bed. Kenma has been sleeping a lot and he hasn't been eating as much as he should. There's a frailty to Kenma’s body that wasn't there before. He's thinned out. Kuroo has noticed the difference. 

“Oi, wake up, kitten,” Kuroo purrs as he sits on the edge of the mattress. 

Kenma stirs, but doesn't wake up. 

“Hey,” Kuroo presses a hand against his shoulder and gently shakes him. “How dare you keep your eyes closed when presented with such a feast.”

One eye opens and peers are Kuroo. As he lifts himself up with one elbow his gaze cuts to the small plate of apple pie in Kuroo's grasp. The surprise, and excitement, is evident as he pushes himself into a sitting position. Kuroo holds the plate out to him. 

“You brought this as a “feast” for me?” Kenma takes the plate, a small smile on his lips as he pulls the fork out of the pie and licks the filling off.

“Well, I was actually referring to myself when I said feast,” Kuroo grins and winks at him. “but apple pie is a close second.”

Kenma rolls his eyes. He takes his first real bite of the pie and lets out a soft hum of appreciation. 

Kuroo pulls his legs onto the mattress, pushing himself back against the wall. When he pulls Kenma into his lap, Kenma doesn't resist. He nestles his back against Kuroo’s chest and sighs as he takes another bite of the pie. 

He can really feel just how thin Kenma has become as he wraps an arm around his waist. The image of Oikawa’s scars resurfaces. Of the pain, the fear of rejection in his eyes, born from an experiment he never should have been a part of. All the suffering, all the tears and the pain, is making Kuroo find it harder and harder to defend the place he’s called home for most of his life. 

“What are you thinking about?”

Kenma’s voice pulls him back to the present, to the moment he’s in right now. He dips forward, resting his chin on the top of Kenma's head. 

Kenma snorts softly. “Don't be an idiot.” He digs his fork into the apple pie and extends his arm backward, the forkful hovering inches in front of Kuroo's mouth. 

Kuroo raises an eyebrow. Kenma never shares his apple pie. 

“You look like you need it,” Kenma says after Kuroo’s moment of hesitation. 

With a soft chuckle, he takes the offered bite, letting loose a low, intentionally obscene moan of enjoyment.

“You ruin everything for me,” Kenma mutters as he turns back to the remainder of his pie. 

Kuroo laughs and presses a kiss against Kenma’s neck. 

“It’s about Oikawa, isn't it?” Kenma muses aloud. “Your silence.”

“Ah…” Kuroo sighs. _Always too observant for his own good_. “Yes and no.”

Reaching over to place the empty plate on Kuroo’s end table, Kenma uses the motion to turn in his grasp. He glances up at Kuroo, his head cocked to the side in question. 

“Everything is alright with them,” Kuroo says after a moment. He reaches up to brush a strand of hair out of Kenma’s face. He lets his hand linger on his cheek for a moment before it falls to the side. “Iwaizumi and Oikawa, I mean.”

Kenma stares at him for a moment before he says, “Are you alright?”

Kuroo blinks, startled by the question. Kenma’s gaze is resolute, probing him for the real answer. And Kuroo knows he can't lie to Kenma. Even if he wanted to hide something, he doesn't think he can. Kenma’s observational skills are terrifying, if Kuroo is being honest. And he loves them. Loves that he’s an open book to the one person he would never want to leave his pages.

Despite all the drama, all the words he's heard and sights he’s seen over the past few hours, all the truth that has crushed his soul and a good majority of what little remains of his confidence in his home, he knows the answer to this question. Because in this moment, with Kenma pressed against him, he is happy. In any moment where he knows Kenma is his, he is happy. 

And maybe that’s something they can have one of these days. Outside these walls. With no needles, no doctors, no jumpsuits and colors and numbers to define them. 

Maybe they're allowed happiness, acceptance. Just maybe.

“Right now?” Kuroo finally says. He leans forward, brushing his lips across Kenma’s as he adds, “Right now I am.”

Kenma’s eyes flicker between Kuroo’s, searching until he finally smiles. It’s barely noticeable, but to Kuroo it shines brighter than any sun he could ever conjure up in his imagination. 

“Right now I am,” he repeats, as Kenma settles his head against Kuroo’s chest. 

They stay like that for minutes, hours maybe. Kuroo doesn't keep track of the time, doesn't care. He could stay like this, in this moment, forever if it came to it.

Then an idea strikes him at the thought of forever.

“Someday…” Kuroo begins, absently threading his fingers through Kenma’s hair. He can feel Kenma’s breath against his chest where the jumpsuit fans open, knows that he may be falling asleep. And Kuroo is okay with that. “When we’re out of here, I want to… I want to go on a real date.”

Kenma huffs softly against him, but Kuroo is pretty sure he’s smiling. 

“I’ve never been on a date before so I don't even know what you're supposed to do on them, to be honest, but the movies always make them look fun.” He tilts his head forward, makes his chin comfortable against the top of Kenma’s head again as he continues. “We could go to a theme park and share a funnel cake. Or take a boat out and have a romantic dinner and maybe dance under the stars.”

“Cheesy,” Kenma mutters. His voice softer than usual, the quiet rasp of sleep overtaking it. 

Kuroo chuckles. “I want to do everything with you, Kenma.”

“Everything?”

“Everything. I want to share pasta and end up with the same noodle. Share a milkshake with two straws. Take a walk, hand in hand, through a garden. Dinner and a movie. Or…” He slides his hand down to Kenma’s nape, tilting his head back to press a kiss against his forehead. “Go to an arcade?”

Kenma perks up at that and Kuroo laughs. 

“Someday I want to do all these things with you.”

When Kenma smiles, it’s sad. Mournful, even. Kuroo’s brow furrows as he tucks a strand of hair behind Kenma’s ear. “Hey…” His thumb slides smoothly over the soft skin of Kenma’s cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“Someday…” Kenma replies, reaching up to place a hand over Kuroo’s. He sighs. “I don't know if I have until Someday.”

Kuroo freezes. Kenma’s gaze doesn't waver. He continues to smile in that same sad way. And Kuroo doesn't have to ask to understand. He’s seen the way Kenma’s body has reacted to the experiments. He can feel how frail, how weak he’s gotten from the first day he met him. He’s changed, and not for the better. He pales by the day and Kuroo doesn't know why everything is dawning on him now.

Has he really been so blind to the lasting effects? Oikawa has said it numerous times before. The bitter question of, “Do you still think this is worth it?” Always making Kuroo second guess everything he’s learned and known. Maybe the blinders of his extended life in the facility, the lack of understanding of life outside, have really made him as unbearable as the facility they live in, as stubborn and rock solid in his ways as the walls that confine them. 

“Kenma…” He frowns, swallows hard. His eyes burn and he refuses to cry in front of someone who has suffered so much more and hasn’t shed a single tear. “I’m--”

“Kuroo, don't,” Kenma whispers. He shifts, curling closer against Kuroo’s chest. “Don't blame yourself for this. I’m not unhappy.” He glances up. “I got to meet you.”

_And I got to meet you. I'm not ready to lose you._

He pulls Kenma tight against his chest, fits Kenma’s head back beneath his chin and sighs. Kuroo doesn't think his own life is worth it. If he had to choose, he'd let himself crumble before he ever let someone as special and real as Kenma fall.

* * *

 

“Abdominal pain,” Sugawara tells him as he preps the needle. He glances over his shoulder and smiles. “Just letting you know what is supposed to happen. We both know you won't feel it.”

Kuroo chuckles and pushes the sleeve of his jumpsuit far up his arm. “Gives me a good idea of what to expect from the others.” He shrugs and gives a sardonic smile. “Especially Oikawa when he relates to me how shitty this place is.”

Sugawara smiles in response, but it never reaches his eyes. Kuroo knows by now that Sugawara’s loyalty lies with something other than the goals of this experiment. He just hasn't quite figured out what that is yet. 

But he thinks it's good to have an ally on the inside, even if Sugawara can't do much without compromising his own position. Kuroo would never ask for him to go too far. He’s never met Keiko, but he knows that Sugawara’s income keeps her in school, keeps her in dance class, gives her a roof over her head. He’ll never take that away from her. Or from Sugawara.

“Thanks for swabbing your arm for me,” Sugawara says with a half smile as he crosses the room to stand beside Kuroo. He angles the tip of the needle toward Kuroo’s arm. “Such a good little helper. Do you want a lollipop?”

Kuroo barely feels the pinch of the needle or the cool sensation of the serum as it goes in. He smirks and sticks his tongue out. “As long as it turns my tongue red.”

Sugawara snickers and steps back, tossing the needle in the designated trash bin. “Well, it’s your lucky day. I just happen to have cherry in my pocket.” He pulls a small candy out of his lab coat pocket and turns just as Kuroo flinches forward. 

_He felt it._

Sugawara’s eyes widen. The lollipop falls from his hand as he darts forward. “Kuroo.” He grabs Kuroo’s arm to steady him. “Are you okay? Were you…”

Kuroo swallows hard and nods. It was brief, but for a second he felt pain lance through his stomach. He blinks wide eyes at Sugawara. “That…” He presses a hand to his stomach. “I think that definitely deserves a lollipop.”

He thinks maybe Sugawara would've smiled and played along with his attempt to disperse the sudden tension in the room, but the scream that echoes down the hall silences both of their senses of humor. 

Kuroo knows that scream. _Bokuto..._

“Sawamura-san, _please_!”

Another voice rises from down the hall.

“Akaashi, you shouldn't be--”

“ _Please let me go to him_!”

Kuroo’s heart plummets at the broken sound of Akaashi’s pleas. 

“You don't understand…” Akaashi’s voice dips, wavers. He’s clearly struggling with the pain as well as fighting against Sawamura--a man who is much stronger than he is. “Bokuto-san is… he’s like a child. He bears pain better with someone there to help him through it.”

“Akaashi, you can barely stand,” Sawamura’s deep voice comes soon after. “I can't let you--”

Kuroo glances at Sugawara, ignoring the shake of his head as he brushes past. The door to the experiment room creaks as he pushes it open, drawing the attention of both Akaashi and Sawamura. 

Tears stream down Akaashi’s cheeks. The pain is clearly almost too much for him to bear. Kuroo can only imagine. If someone like him, a level one, could feel it, he can't even begin to fathom how unbearable it must be for a level four.

_Or a level five… Kenma…_

“Kuroo…” Sawamura’s expression softens. His eyes pleading. 

“Let me go sit with Bokuto,” he says, hearing the door creak behind him as Sugawara follows him out. “I'll stay with him until the pain passes.”

Bokuto’s scream reverberates across the walls. So loud, but so far away. Kuroo knows what room he’s in. 

“Kuroo, I don't know if that--”

“Let him,” Sugawara says, reaching forward to press a hand to Kuroo’s shoulder. “He’s alright. I've cleared him.”

Kuroo shoots Sugawara a grateful look before turning back to Akaashi who, reluctantly, nods his head in acceptance. 

“Kuroo-san… please let Bokuto-san know that--”

“I’ll tell him how bravely you fought to be by his side,” Kuroo smiles. “He does love those knight in shining armor stories, after all.”

Akaashi lets loose a broken sound, halfway between a chuckle and a sob. “Thank you.”

Kuroo nods and brushes past Sugawara. Sugawara encouragingly pats Kuroo on the arm again before turning to Akaashi to say, “Let’s get you some rest.”

* * *

 

When Kuroo enters the room he finds Bokuto on his hands and knees, dry heaving from the pain. His back spasms with every sound, followed by a whimper and a choked back sob. Kuroo clenches his teeth, squeezes the hem of his shirt and takes a soft, steadying breath before he crosses the room and kneels beside Bokuto.

“Tetsu…” Bokuto rasps. He chuckles weakly and places a hand on Kuroo’s knee. “I'm okay…” He squeezes as hard as he can. 

Kuroo rubs soothing circles against Bokuto's back. “It’s okay to not be okay, bro.” He reaches out and brushes Bokuto’s bangs out of his face. His forehead is warm, damp with sweat, but Kuroo doesn't let go. 

And Bokuto heaves again. Nothing comes out of his mouth but the wretched sounds of his suffering. He clutches his stomach, but his other arm is too weak to hold him up. When Kuroo notices him waver, he pulls his upper body into his lap and Bokuto gives in, collapses into Kuroo’s hold.

“Shit, man,” Bokuto groans. He’s clutching his stomach tighter now, breathing heavily. His eyes close as Kuroo absently runs his fingers through his hair. “I need to get over this. I need to see Akaashi.”

Kuroo’s heart clenches in his chest. “Akaashi is okay, Kou.” He switches hands, pressing his cooler palm against Bokuto’s forehead. “He’s with Suga. Sawamura wouldn't let him come in here, but he tried. He really tried, Kou.”

Bokuto must hear the sadness Kuroo can't keep out of his tone. He sighs, a tear slipping down the side of his cheek. “Damn Sawamura and his strong arms and caring smile.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo chuckles, patting Bokuto’s cheek. “He is a good man.”

“I’m glad he insisted Akaashi stay with him. He needs to rest...” And Kuroo can hear the truth in that statement. Even though he knows Bokuto wants Akaashi here by his side, he know that Bokuto wants Akaashi to be able to focus on his own recovery more.

“Me too.” He absently plays with Bokuto’s hair, flattening it against his head, pulling it up into a mohawk. The actions bring a small smile to Bokuto’s lips, even if only for a moment. It's a game they always play, seeing who could come up with the craziest hairdo for one another. 

They sit in silence like that for a while, broken only by the sounds of Bokuto’s heavy breathing. Kuroo tries not to think about Kenma, tries not to worry. Sugawara would never go overboard with the injections and, after seeing the way Kuroo’s body reacted, Kuroo wants to believe that he would dial down the dosage for Kenma. If Bokuto is reacting this strongly, he doesn't want to know what will happen to Kenma. 

“Hey, Tetsu?”

“Mm?” Kuroo glances down, swiping Bokuto’s bangs off to the side. 

“Do you think I'm gonna make it?”

Kuroo freezes, his mind going blank. These are words he expects to hear from Oikawa. Sarcastic, bitter words that make Kuroo’s guilt rise like bile in the back of his throat. But Bokuto’s question catches him off guard. Bokuto, the one who is always smiling, always laughing, always looking on the bright side of everything. Bokuto, the one who told Kenma, reassured him that they were all stronger than this place, that they’d all get out, that they’d all see the sun. Bokuto, Kuroo’s best friend, Kuroo’s light in the dark, dreary halls of this facility.

He doesn't realize he’s crying until Bokuto’s shaky hand presses against his cheek. 

Startled, he glances down and offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile. 

“It’s okay to not be okay, bro,” Bokuto whispers.

Kuroo covers Bokuto’s face. “Shut up and rest, Bo.” He resumes running his fingers through Bokuto’s hair. “I wont let anything stop you from seeing the sun again.”

* * *

 

Kenma doesn’t open his eyes when the door opens. He already knows it's Kuroo. Sugawara had made a bed for him after the last serum, even sat with him for a while and told him about his daughter Keiko and how excited she got the other day when her other father came home. Kenma had smiled through the pain and vaguely thought that the other man must be pretty special to have Sugawara’s face softening like that. 

The mattress dips on his left side, creaking with the added weight. Kenma reaches out and Kuroo catches his hand without hesitation. With a sigh, Kenma slowly opens his eyes. The light burns and his stomach still aches in a way that makes him feel like it won't ever go away. But he ignores it. He doesn't even bring up the pain when he sees the haunted look in Kuroo’s swollen eyes. 

“Kuroo…” Kenma shifts to push himself up but Kuroo presses his free hand against his shoulder and keeps him down. 

“Don't push yourself.” Kuroo’s voice is low, hoarse. Kenma doesn't think he’s ever heard his voice like that. He’s never seen Kuroo cry. 

“But Kuroo, you--”

Kuroo gently nudges Kenma’s side. When Kenma gets the hint, Kuroo helps him scoot over until there’s enough room for Kuroo to lay down beside him. He shivers as he feels Kuroo’s finger trail down the side of his arm until he laces their fingers together. 

“You're in pain,” Kuroo says, tilting his head to the side for Kenma to see the tight, sad smile.

“Mm…” Kenma nods. There's no use in lying. He knows Kuroo can see the sweat on his brow, the paleness of his skin. He can feel him shudder every time a particularly painful spasm passes through. It’s dying down, thankfully, but still present. 

“Always in pain…” Kuroo mutters, leaning back against the pillow. 

Kenma can feel Kuroo trembling. It takes some effort, but he shifts onto his side so he can curl up against Kuroo’s body. Kuroo doesn't tell him not to. He knows Kenma’s limits and knows that he won't try something if he’s incapable of doing it. Instead, Kuroo drapes his arm around Kenma’s shoulders and pulls his face forward for a gentle kiss to the forehead. 

“Kuroo, what happened?”

“You know, kitten… I don't remember what it feels like to stand in the sun.”

Kenma blinks, his eyes flicker upward to stare at Kuroo. He can't decipher the expression on Kuroo’s face. Contemplative, sad, angry, curious, confused. A myriad of emotions crosses his face, one by one, at war with one another. 

“I don't know what fresh air tastes like, what it feels like to get soaked by a sudden downpour.”

“It's wet,” Kenma supplies with a shiver. “And cold.”

“I'm sure,” Kuroo chuckles weakly. “But even the cold and the wet… I want to experience that.” He glances down, his lips twitching into a hint of a smile. “I want to experience all that with you.”

Kenma tightens his hold across Kuroo’s stomach, hides his face against Kuroo’s chest so his blush can't be seen. Kuroo’s trembling has stopped. His free hand is clenched at his side and when Kenma glances upward again he sees Kuroo’s jaw set in a determination that Kenma hasn't seen on Kuroo’s face since he first met him.

“We’re gonna get out of here.”

“We’re…” Kenma freezes, eyes wide as he stares at Kuroo. “What?”

Kuroo looks down at him and that same determination burns deep within his eyes. Kenma can't decide if it scares him or excites him. 

“We’re gonna get out of here,” Kuroo repeats, closing all distance between them as he pulls Kenma on top of him. He presses their foreheads together and breathes, “No more serums. No more pain. No more wondering when. Just you, me and the world out there.”

Kenma hears his heartbeat loudly in his chest. He hopes Kuroo can't hear it too. “Just… you and me?”

Kuroo’s lips twitch. “Well… maybe a few other people too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of angst in this fic.... so thank you all for wading through it and being patient with me! Your commentary and readership makes me want to churn out the rest of this fic! :D


End file.
